


Craving Strawberry Surprise

by the_rogue_bitch



Category: Bleach, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Illustrations, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sexual Content, Sexual Experimentation, Work In Progress, handjob, sexual initiation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rogue_bitch/pseuds/the_rogue_bitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set 2 years after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1020565">No Conscience, One Motive</a>. Sam decides to visit Ichigo for his 18th birthday and see if his growing attraction is reciprocated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [No Conscience, One Motive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020565) by [the_rogue_bitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rogue_bitch/pseuds/the_rogue_bitch). 



> This story will make no sense at all unless you read [No Conscience, One Motive](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1020565). I promise. I also promise that the story is finished and it just needs to be proofread by my writing group before I post it.
> 
> Illustrations commissioned from [Aosuka](http://www.y-gallery.net/user/aosuka/).
> 
> ***

Prologue

In the dream, you are walking with someone in a companionable silence. The trees are autumn bonfires, covered in brilliant scarlet leaves, some of which are drifting like sparks in the lemon-yellow sunlight. They dance down the cool breezes in random spins and loops and are soft and yielding under your feet as you shuffle through them.

"But it's summer where I am," you say to the person next to you.

He reaches out, slender fingers catching a falling leaf. It looks like a crimson snowflake. He hands it to you. It is chill and springy between your fingers, and a bit crisp, like the breeze. You smile at him, and he smirks back, the sardonic look barely obscuring the vulnerability beneath.

The dream fades and you’re left with an image of a mop of spiky orange hair and perceptive golden brown eyes.

 

Sam woke up slowly, not willing to fully let go of the dream. He rubbed his fingers together, still feeling the silken cool of the scarlet leaf.

His cock was as hard as it had ever been and he was ashamed of himself. He wanted to reach down and jerk himself off with the feel of the leaf and the image of that slight angular face still fresh in his mind. He gripped the edges of the mattress to forestall the slightest movement in that direction before it even started.

Ichigo was 17 years old and, by Sam’s waking ethical standards, off limits. Sam had never touched him, and wouldn’t even if they were geographically proximate. But his stupid subconscious and his stupid subconscious body remained beyond his control. He looked down at his morning wood, tenting out the front of his pajama pants, and sighed.

Sam heaved himself out of bed and into the motel shower, where he stripped and then stood stoically under a pathetic trickle of tepid water thinking about quadratic equations and the chemical components of rocket fuel. He ranked his knives according to their potential utility in horror movies. He soaped up and rinsed down very carefully.

It took until the water was ice cold for Sam to more or less regain his composure.

Dean was still asleep, so Sam dressed and grabbed his laptop bag. He kicked the end of his brother’s bed.

“I’m going out,” he said. Dean grumbled and rolled over.

He’d seen a few cafes advertising free wifi on their way into town, so he headed to the one closest to the motel. He bought a vanilla latte (triple espresso, because it was still early, too early for anything but cafes and 24-hour diners to be open) and fired up his laptop.

The first emails between Sam and Ichigo had been infrequent, one- or two-line memos from Rukia through Ichigo asking whether Sam was having any more prophetic dreams about Hollows. He wasn’t. Over time, as Sam had less to ask Ichigo about Hollows, he found they had more to say to each about other things. More personal things. Sam found Ichigo surprisingly easy to confide in via email, and Ichigo’s emails frequently had “I’ve never told my friends this” or “I would never admit this to anyone” in them.

They shared details about the deaths of their mothers when they were both small, although Ichigo was more Dean’s age than Sam’s when his mother died, which made for a difference in perspective. Sam had never known his mother. Ichigo had dark days, especially when it rained, when the memory of his mother and the stormy day of her death was too much. He would skip school and lay on his bed, immobilized by grief.

_You’re the only one I’ve ever told about it,_ Ichigo wrote, _I don’t want my friends to think I’m weak._

_No one could ever think you’re weak for being sad about your mother,_ Sam had tried to reassure Ichigo in a reply, but he hadn’t addressed it again.

Sam and Ichigo compared their parallel quests for the creatures that killed their mothers and the double lives they’d had to lead as a consequence.

Sam learned about Ichigo’s reckless bravery, and his genuine loyalty and affection for his family and friends. He saw the gentleness under Ichigo’s shell of sarcasm. He was impressed by Ichigo’s fierce intelligence. He knew the names of Ichigo’s close friends; Chad, Orihime, and Uryuu and the Shinigami (Rukia, Renji, and others) who were his allies.

In turn, Sam told Ichigo about his peripatetic childhood, Stanford, and Jessica. The endless Winchester Roadtrip.

Ichigo bitched and ranted, too, because he was a teenager, and chafed at it. Sam remembered the frustration all too well; he wasn’t so far from the contradiction of wanting to be told what to do only to rebel against it. Both their situations were more complex because of the extraordinary burdens placed on them outside of the facade of their normal lives.

Ichigo was one of the few people that Sam could email about near-death experiences or dying from a position of familiarity. When Ichigo confided his wariness of his dark self to Sam, Sam read his own thoughts and fears in another’s words.

Sam had archived every email between them from the beginning. With their friendship, Sam felt a sort of admiration grow. From that grew a slow, unintentional, and completely inappropriate burn of infatuation and desire. He not only looked forward to Ichigo’s emails, he yearned for them, feeling bereft if more than a couple of days went by without a reply. Ichigo appeared to feel the same way, sending Sam snarky or sometimes worried emails when he didn’t reply swiftly enough. Usually the delays occurred after Sam had been hurt on a hunt and needed to recover, so Ichigo was right to be worried.

Sam dreamed of Ichigo now, not Hollows.

He had dreams where they fought side by side, Ichigo in his battle uniform with his enormous sword, and his fierce enthusiastic grin, which was Sam’s most vivid memory of him. Sam would be next to him, fighting with his gun, or maybe his knives. Sometimes they were peaceful dreams, where they walked together, talked about everything and nothing, equal companions. The background changed, but Sam paid little attention to the scenery.

Sam’s other clear recollection of Ichigo was how transparent he was, his mood obvious even on short acquaintance. In his dreams Sam focused on Ichigo’s animated features, sharp but open. He basked in Ichigo’s genuine smiles, and his own smile answering them with unaccustomed ease. His dreams were never sexual until he woke up.

When Sam did wake up, his ridiculous body would translate that ease and companionability into arousal and longing. He was disgusted with himself for as long as it took him to open his browser and see if he had any email from “strawberry15”.

Sam often forgot about the age difference between himself and Ichigo. Their responsibilities and occupations were so similar that when Sam was reminded of Ichigo’s relative youth by some offhand remark, it was jarring. Sam thought of them as equals, and they were, in every way but age. That was the problem.

But as long as Ichigo was in Japan and Sam was circumnavigating America with his brother, it wasn’t a _big_ problem. The self-denial was uncomfortable at worst.

But when, sitting there in the cafe feeling the caffeine wake up his brain, he read Ichigo’s latest email -- when that email ended casually with, “I’ll be 18 in a couple of weeks,” Sam knew, instantly, illogically, that he needed to go to Japan.

The decision to go was the simplest part of the whole plan, of course. It took no time at all for Sam to pick a name off one of their fraudulent credit cards and book tickets to Tokyo and a hotel room in Karakura Town. Then he walked outside. He hunched under the cafe awning for some privacy so he could call Bobby and arrange a passport, since Sam Winchester had officially died in a jailhouse explosion years ago.

“Bobby,” Sam strived to sound casual. “How fast can you get a passport?”

“Well, good morning, Sam! No, you didn’t wake me, I haven’t actually been to bed yet, but thank you so much for asking.” Bobby’s tart greeting made Sam smile with its familiarity.

“Good morning, Bobby, how are you?” Sam said with exaggerated schoolroom politeness.

“Better than I was, now that I have some coffee in me. Now, what’s this about a passport?”

“How fast can you get one?”

“Pretty quick, actually, since it’s sitting in my desk drawer,” Bobby said. Sam waited. “Or did you mean for you?”

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. It had seemed like such a good idea to jump on this spur-of-the-moment plan right after he bought the tickets, but he knew he was going to have to work for this passport.

“How fast can you get _me_ a passport, Bobby?”

“What do _you_ need a passport for, Sam?”

“I want to go to Japan and I just booked the tickets, but I need a new passport to go with the name on the tickets, since technically I’m dead.” Sam really hoped that all the detail would throw Bobby off the scent.

“Japan? What do you need to go to Japan for?”

Of course, Sam could never be that lucky.

“I thought I would visit that Shinigami kid that helped us out with that Hollow a while back,” Sam said, and then was startled. _‘A while back’ -- has it really been almost two years?_ “You remember?”

“Is Dean going with you?”

Sam snorted. “Shit, no. He would drive me crazy with 12 hours of him humming ‘Enter Sandman’ and I wouldn’t get any rest with him puking every five minutes. I’d need elephant tranquilizers to keep him down for a flight that long without killing him.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Bobby muttered. “So let me get this straight, and correct me if I miss any important details, here. You want me to get you a passport so that you can make a trip all the way to Japan to visit someone who happened to give you guys a hand on a hunt back in the day?” Bobby’s voice was positively heavy with disbelief.

“Yes.” Sam stuck to the simplest answer, since anything else would open up a line of inquiry that he really didn’t feel like dealing with.

“Why? You never followed up with anyone else you were involved with on hunts, why now?”

Sam rolled his eyes, blowing a frustrated breath into his bangs, so done with Bobby’s interrogation.

“Look, Bobby, can you get me the passport or not?”

“Keep your shorts on, boy. I can have one for you in a week. What’s the name on it?”

“Craig Johnson.”

“All right. You better bring me a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue for my trouble,” Bobby said. “And don’t think we’re done with this.”

“I’ll bring you two bottles,” Sam assured him. “See you in a week?”

“See you then.” Bobby hung up.

Sam mentally dusted off his hands. That was done.

Only one more hurdle.

***

Dean paced back and forth in front of Sam, who sat at the end of one of their motel beds.

“Japan? Why in the hell do you need to go there?”

“I just need a break, Dean. It’s only for a few days.”

Dean stopped and glared down at Sam, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with that kid who helped with that Hollow, would it? The one with the big sword and smart mouth? The one sending you all those emails?”

Sam shouldn’t have been surprised at the breathtaking nerve Dean showed in being offended at Ichigo’s smartassery, even it was a clear case of pot/kettle. He didn’t bother denying the emails. What would be the point?

Instead, he asked, “Have you been using my stuff again?”

“If you would actually log _out_ of your account, I wouldn’t know who was writing to you,” Dean snapped. “I do sometimes need your laptop for actual research.”

“Researching busty Asian beauties,” Sam snickered.

“Seems like I’m not the only one with an Asian fetish.”

Sam fell back onto the bed in exasperation. “Yes, okay, fine, I’m going to Japan to visit Ichigo,” he muttered, beyond humiliated.

“Okay, then,” Dean sat on the bed across from Sam’s. “I’m not going to ask you if you think this is really a good idea, because I know how you are when you’ve made up your mind. Just be careful, alright?”

Sam looked up at his brother in surprise. He couldn’t believe that Dean was letting him off the hook that easily.

“Dean, I can handle myself.”

“Normally I would agree with you, if you were going over there to fight. But that’s not why you’re going, is it?”

“Research?” Sam tried.

“Please,” Dean scoffed. “I mean, if you have to go all the way to Japan just to get your ashes hauled, that’s your business, but don’t try to tell me it’s research. It’s more like a sad, pathetic cry for help.”

...And there was the sarcasm. As if Dean could have resisted a jab at Sam’s apparent desperation.

_Well, it is_ kind of _research,_ Sam thought. Research into whether Ichigo returned his attraction. He sighed.

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

Dean shrugged. “What, the age difference bothers you?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“It isn’t bothering you enough to prevent you from making this trip.”

Sam gave his brother a ‘well, duh’ look.

“Maybe it’s a little weird. Not the age difference, but you getting a wild hair and running off to give him a happy birthday private strip-o-gram? Now _that’s_ strange.” Dean smirked at Sam.

Sam realized he had been hoping that Dean would say the one thing that would make it okay for him to take the trip. He really should have known better by now. It was on Sam to justify the trip to himself. Dean wasn’t going to do that.

“Whatever, jerk.” Sam said, chagrined.

Dean got up and snagged his jacket off the back of a chair. “I’m getting some food. Bitch.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sam stayed supine, realizing how stupid and reckless this all must seem to his brother and Bobby. Hell, it even seemed stupid and reckless to him.

He knew he should spare some worry over whether or not he would be caught traveling internationally with a fraudulent credit card and fake passport, but he had faith in Bobby’s abilities and connections. His driver’s license was flawless, and Bobby had gotten that for him, too.

Sam asked himself again why he was even going. He wanted to see Ichigo, but maybe it was a bad idea to go so impulsively. It was a long trip, a lot of money (even if it wasn’t his money) to investigate whether or not Ichigo was attracted to him.

He had never spoken to Ichigo on the phone, never texted him, only emailed.

Sam briefly considered calling ahead, but discarded the idea immediately. He wanted to surprise Ichigo, to see what his reaction would be to his unannounced arrival. So, no phone call. Just show up, see what happened, and go with it.

Sam knew if he thought about it too much, he would talk himself out of going, because he knew it was ridiculous. He was taking a stupid, impulsive chance and that was really unlike him, and would probably end up in a devastating rejection.

Sam took a deep breath and tried to put it out of his mind. He was committed now.

**

Another day ended, another week passed, and another hunt finished. They stopped by Bobby’s for some rest and research and Sam got his new passport.

“ _Now_ are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Bobby asked.

“I’m visiting a friend for his birthday.”

“Really,” Bobby’s tone redefined ‘skeptical’. “In Japan.”

“Really. In Japan.” Sam repeated implacably.

Bobby peered up at him and sighed, knowing Sam’s stubbornness all too well. “Try not to call any attention to yourself.”

“I’m not on any wanted lists anymore,” Sam protested.

“But you do stand out. Not very many people are as tall as you are, especially where you’re going. So make sure you stay under the radar,” Bobby insisted.

“Yes, sir. Thanks for the passport.”

“Pay up,” Bobby replied. Sam held out the whiskey.

_I bet him and Dean are going to be on the phone gossiping about me like a couple of teenage girls as soon as I’m on that plane,_ Sam thought.

***

Packing took some thought. Sam couldn’t bring any of his weapons with him, or holy water, though he did have a rosary to bless water in a pinch. If he got into a tight spot, he would have to rely on his hand-to-hand skills and his father’s thorough combat training. He would have liked to think of himself as a civilian on this trip, but he knew better. Hunters were never civilians. He and Dean had lots of demons, and not all of them metaphorical.

After all that planning, Sam had even less than usual to pack, so he was able to go carry-on. It felt weird to go completely unarmed, without even a knife up his sleeve. He felt strangely naked.

Dean took him as far as the security gates at LAX.

“Let me know when you get there,” Dean reminded him.

“Yeah, okay.” Sam slung his laptop bag over his right shoulder, and held his small roll-aboard suitcase in his left hand.

“Sam,” Dean said, and the seriousness of his tone stopped Sam in his tracks. “Be careful.”

“You told me that already,” said Sam. Dean looked grave and Sam smiled briefly. “I will be, don’t worry.”

“Not possible.” Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Go on. Have a safe flight. Good luck with the fetish. Use condoms.”

Sam rolled his eyes and joined the security line. He looked back once. Dean raised a hand in farewell, then turned and walked away. He was never one for prolonged goodbyes.

Sam set his watch for Tokyo time and logged into the airport wifi to check his email and look up demons on Wikipedia so he could make corrections to the entries. He was distracting himself, and he knew it, but he didn’t know what else he could do besides bounce his leg and fidget and overthink things. Better to do something constructive.

Sam couldn’t say if he hoped surprising Ichigo would fan the flames of his infatuation, or quench them. Either way, tomorrow he’d know for sure.

His stomach twisted in nervousness as he boarded the plane. “Craig Johnson” was sitting in first-class, but he still felt cramped, knees bumping up against the wall in front of him. The dimensions were similar to the front seat of the Impala, though, and Sam had the Winchester talent of catching sleep when and where he could. As the plane taxied and took off, he leaned his seat back, plopped one of the tiny airline pillows over his eyes, and fell asleep. He had one last thought before unconsciousness claimed him.

_Right now, right this minute, Ichigo is turning eighteen._


	2. Chapter 2

Sam woke when his ears popped as they descended into Tokyo/Narita. He felt like a knotted Twizzler and his mouth was horribly dry.

A flight attendant offered him a heated towel, which Sam gratefully accepted, wiping his face down in an attempt to be more alert. In between filling in blanks on the customs card, he stared out at the density of Tokyo at dawn. The profusion of skyscrapers and apartment buildings were packed tightly together like sushi in a bento box, a vivid reminder to Sam that he was going to be in one of the most densely populated areas on the planet.

Somewhere in the suburbs to the west lay Karakura Town. And Ichigo.

**

Since he was in first class, Sam was one of the first off the plane. He had only his carry-on to take with him, so he reached customs well ahead of the other passengers. He heard the chatter of the crowds as a distant roar, surging and abstract. He passed through customs and changed his money, then headed outside to find a train.

The humid air slapped Sam out of his daze like a giant steaming blanket. He gasped for breath and left sweaty streaks on his phone as he pulled up a map to the train station. He called Dean.

“Hey, I’m in Tokyo.” Sam heard people, an old country tune, and bottles clinking. “Are you in a bar?”

“Figure I deserve a cold one after a long day’s work.”

Sam snorted in derision.

“What’ve you been doing all day that was so hard?”

“Oh, I slept in, detailed the car, stuff like that. What’s it like where you are?”

“Like Savannah,” Sam replied.

“Gross. What’s next?”

“Get on a train, get there.”

Dean grunted, “Watch your back,” and disconnected the call almost simultaneously as Sam reached the train station.

It was only when Sam wedged himself into the train compartment that he realized how much taller he was than, well, everybody. Sam clung to one of the straps, marveling at how none of the passengers came up past his collarbone. They watched him from the corners of their eyes, not wanting to appear impolite. Except for a trio of high school girls, who openly stared at him, glanced away, and giggled.

Sam smiled at the girls, giving them the full dimple treatment just to see what would happen, and they giggled even harder behind their hands, blushing happily. Sam was not reassured. Just because Japanese schoolgirls thought he was cute and unthreatening meant nothing in terms of his reception when he got to Ichigo’s. That was what he was _really_ worried about

Sam felt claustrophobic and stifled with all the people crowded around him. He was relieved when his stop was called and he could get out, but it was no better on the platform, the stairs, or the street.

Sam let the human tide wash him along, consulting his phone for directions to the hotel that he’d booked along with his plane tickets, just in case. It was across the street from the subway exit, and Sam committed its location to memory in the event that Ichigo bounced him out on his ass.

There was a taxi stand close to the subway, so at least Sam wouldn’t have to deal with the crowds and heat trying to find Kurosaki Clinic. The car was blessedly cool, although Sam had to hunch himself up to fit inside. The cabbie turned and rattled off something that Sam took to mean “Where to?”

“Kurosaki Clinic?”

The taxi squealed out, like taxis everywhere, and Sam held tight to the seat in front of him. After some high-speed turns and stops, the cab pulled up in front of a rectangular two-story building. A sign over a set of frosted glass doors probably announced it as the clinic, while curtains in the upstairs windows indicated that it was also where the Kurosakis lived.

“Kurosaki Clinic!” announced the driver. Sam glanced at the meter, paid him, and unfolded himself from the cab. He stood in front of the double doors, indecisive, nervously shifting his bag from hand to hand. Did he knock or just go right in? How did they do it in a hybrid dwelling like this? His heart raced and his stomach roiled. 

Sam finally pushed through the frosted glass doors. If he was wrong, he was wrong, and he would find out soon enough.

He looked around what seemed to be a waiting room, but there wasn’t anyone there. He heard a brisk shuffling sound and a young teenage girl with blonde hair and big brown eyes came around a corner and approached him, a courteous smile on her face. Sam eyed her, thinking of the schoolgirls on the train, and tried not to loom. She asked him something.

He cleared his throat. “Is Ichigo here?”

_“Hai!”_ the girl said, and ran into the back, calling out _“Ichi-nii!”_ Another voice answered her, coming closer, and Sam’s mouth went dry. That was Ichigo.

Sam’s mind raced. What if this was a terrible idea? What if it was all too awkward? He should have called. He should have made sure it was all right. Ichigo would probably throw him out and he would have to fly back and face Dean. He would never get another email from Ichigo again.

Sam couldn’t stand the thought of his brother’s solicitous pity, or his eventual, inevitable, mockery, over this.

His heart pounded and he was cold with adrenaline.

Ichigo was saying something over his shoulder as he came around the corner, and didn’t see Sam right away. When he did, there was an instant of blank incomprehension, then surprise and delight bloomed across his face, culminating in an unguarded, slightly silly, grin.

“Sam!” he exclaimed.

“Uh, happy belated birthday, Ichigo,” Sam knew he probably had a similarly goofy smile on his face. He tried not to shuffle his feet like a nervous teenager on his first date.

Ichigo walked across the clinic towards Sam and Sam couldn’t stop looking at him. This was only the second time he had seen Ichigo in the flesh. So to speak.

Ichigo and his friends were ridiculously snapshot-happy, and Sam had been the recipient of numerous pictures, none of which were any comparison to the reality of seeing him, which hit him like a punch in the chest. 

_He looks **delicious** ,_ Sam thought, taken aback at his own, entirely visceral, reaction.

Ichigo wore a loose orange henley shirt with the top two buttons undone and low-slung khaki pants with a wallet chain. Despite the wide white belt pulled through the beltloops, the pants hung so low off his hips that Sam could see a narrow strip of black boxer briefs crossing Ichigo’s abdomen. Even his feet seemed appealing, slender and flexible, bare and neat on the shiny tile floor of the clinic. His hair was longer than the last time Sam had seen him, strands of it falling over his eyes and under the collar of his shirt. He had gotten taller and broader in the shoulders.

“Yuzu said that a giant was asking for me and I thought she meant Chad,” Ichigo looked sidelong at Sam ruefully, scratching the back of his head. “I was telling her not to be rude about my friends.”

“Well, she _is_ pretty small,” Sam observed.

“I bet everyone seems small to you,” scoffed Ichigo, and Sam laughed, a little relieved. Ichigo smiled back, glancing at Sam and then away quickly, cheeks tinged pink.

Sam wondered if Ichigo was nervous or just being polite. He really wanted to believe that Ichigo was genuinely pleased to see him. 

Yuzu poked her head around a corner and said something to Ichigo, looking from him to Sam meaningfully. Sam stared at them, eyebrows raised in query.

“Yuzu thinks I’m being impolite and I should invite you in. Are you hungry? Have you eaten?”

Sam’s stomach promptly made him aware that the last meal he’d had was sometime in the very distant past and in another country.

“I could definitely eat,” he said.

“Let me take your bag,” Ichigo reached for the handle and their hands brushed. It was just the backs, and it was only for an instant, but the effect on Ichigo was galvanic. He almost leapt away from Sam, flushing a brilliant crimson.

“M-make sure you take off your shoes,” Ichigo stammered, walking very fast ahead of Sam to the back of the clinic and into the house. Bemused, Sam followed him, thinking he wasn’t so wrong to make this trip after all.

 

**

The meal was a lively one, presided over by Ichigo’s little sister Yuzu, who apparently did all the cooking. She made a _lot_ of food for what was supposed to be a late-morning snack. Sam ate some of everything, regardless of how unfamiliar it seemed, because it was delicious and because he was starving.

Ichigo introduced Sam to his other little sister, Yuzu’s twin Karin, who looked like a miniature Ichigo, only with dark hair and grey eyes. They both chattered at Sam, and Ichigo translated.

Yes, he came for Ichigo’s birthday. He was only staying for a few days, over the weekend. He found Japan to be very crowded and very hot so far. He had booked a hotel room downtown, but had come to the clinic straight from the airport and hadn’t checked in yet.

Yuzu said something to Ichigo that made his cheeks flush and ears turn pink.

“Yuzu says you shouldn’t pay for a hotel. You can stay with us and sleep in my room,” he said.

“That’s really generous, Yuzu, thank you,” Sam said to the girl, who beamed up at him. He looked over at Ichigo.

“That is, if it’s okay with you,” he said to Ichigo, who stared intensely at his plate. Then he looked up and smiled at Sam, the slow, oddly knowing, vulnerable grin that Sam saw in so many of his dreams.

“Yeah, it’s okay with me,” he said, looking straight at Sam.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a long day, full of people.

As Sam had finished eating, Ichigo had gotten on his phone and seemed to call absolutely everyone he knew.

“Who are you calling?” Sam asked.

“Just some of my friends,” Ichigo said, using the pretext of dialing a number to avoid Sam’s gaze. “I want to introduce you to them.”

_If the volume of phone calls is any indication, I think he’s planning to show me **off** to his friends, not just introduce me to them,_ Sam thought.

Ichigo had quite a circle of acquaintances. Most seemed to be just schoolmates, with the exception of Ichigo’s allies, about whom Sam had heard much: Orihime, Uryuu, and Chad.

Orihime was a pretty girl with big eyes, long, caramel-colored hair and a wistful demeanor. She also had notably large breasts, and even though Sam was there for Ichigo, he had a hard time not staring at them. He made a mental note to tell Dean about her later. Ichigo had described Orihime in his emails as “really clumsy” and a “terrible cook” but also “surprisingly strong and brave.” She was very sweet, and Sam didn’t miss the way her eyes fastened onto Ichigo until Ichigo looked her way. Her crush was so obvious he didn’t know how Ichigo _couldn’t_ see it, but Ichigo had never mentioned anything like it in his emails to Sam.

Ichigo had described Uryuu in terms of both antipathy and grudging admiration as an equal in academics and fighting skill. He was dark-haired with glasses, slim and aloof, asking brief, politely couched questions about hunting and life in America. Sam also noticed Uryuu’s intense focus on Orihime, and hoped someday she would stop looking at Ichigo long enough to see it.

Ichigo told Sam that Chad was his strong right arm and best friend. Chad was the same height as Sam and merely looked at him through shaggy brown hair and said, “Hmm.” Ichigo had described Chad as extremely laconic, so Sam didn’t try to draw him out. He had a brother like that.

They sat in a bubble tea place, and so many of Ichigo’s other friends came and went that Sam couldn’t begin to remember them all. Their English was very good, which was helpful, since Sam spoke absolutely no Japanese. He answered a lot of questions. Questions about what he did in America (he said he was a traveling consultant, since he couldn’t tell anyone but Ichigo’s allies about hunting), what he was doing in Japan (Ichigo’s birthday), and whether he had any family. He answered all kinds of questions about America. Which he was in an excellent position to do, given the number of times he’d crossed it.

They were all polite and friendly and...uncomplicated. They seemed so young. They didn’t have the knowledge, the shadows, etched into their faces and eyes the way that Uryuu, Chad, and Orihime had. The way he and Ichigo had.

Eventually everyone left, giving polite little bows. On his way out, a very effusive boy named Keigo addressed Sam. “It was really nice to finally meet you, Sam! Ichigo talks about you all the time!”

“Really?” Sam asked Ichigo, fascinated. Ichigo blushed, glaring at his friend, and said in a low, vicious tone, “Keigo, _ussendayo!_ ” Keigo looked startled and comically hurt, and left quickly. Ichigo avoided Sam’s amused gaze by staring out the window in attempted nonchalance.

Sam was surprised that it was going on twilight as he walked alongside Ichigo through the back alleys of Karakura Town. The sun was a mellow vermilion sphere on the horizon, briefly glimpsed in the gaps between the buildings as they walked through quiet valleys of concrete. He didn’t know what time it was, and it didn’t matter. He had gone beyond tired to the point where he felt like he was having an out-of-body experience.

Sam felt like he should say something, say _anything_ , get a conversation started.

He was just opening his mouth to do so when a familiar metallic scream ripped the sky, and his eardrums, in half.

“ _Kuso!_ ” Ichigo spat, and even Sam could tell what that meant from the tone. Ichigo turned his back to Sam, pulling something out of his pocket. “Hold this for me,” he said over his shoulder, slamming what looked like an oversized keychain charm or badge against his own chest. The device seemed to push him _out_ of his body, which slumped and folded. Sam lunged to catch Ichigo’s corporeal form before it hit the pavement, at the last minute understanding what Ichigo had meant for him to hold. The sheer dead weight of Ichigo’s body dropped Sam on his ass, where he sat, holding Ichigo across his lap and against his chest.

Levitating above him was the Ichigo that Sam remembered from their first meeting -- battle uniform, gigantic sword, and a fierce grin on his face.

_That is pretty damn sexy,_ thought Sam.

Ichigo ran up the air as one of those bony monstrosities called a Hollow streaked across the sky. It was different from the one Sam had dreamt of, the one that had led to his first meeting with Ichigo and Rukia. That one had been more or less man-shaped. This one was just as pale and skeletal, but resembled a scorpion, with an articulated tail, jointed legs, and a stinger at the end. It was also like a crab, with two claws on its forelimbs, one larger than the other. When it threw its head back to howl, it had a second row of teeth. Its dentition, the perfectly round hole in its chest, and the fact that it was about 5 times bigger than any human being, were the only similarities it had to the Hollow Sam had seen.

Ichigo attacked it without hesitation, launching himself at it, zanpakuto-first.

Even though Sam was confident in Ichigo’s fighting skills, watching him dodge the stinger in the Hollow’s tail only to fend off its claws made Sam nervous. He held Ichigo’s body more firmly.

Two other Soul Reapers appeared, standing on -- or in -- the air, flanking Ichigo. One was the tiny but fierce woman that Sam remembered from before, Rukia. The other was a large, muscular guy with wild red hair and facial tattoos. From Ichigo’s descriptions, Sam guessed it was Renji.

Renji shouted something at Ichigo that sounded snide and mocking. Ichigo yelled back at Renji, waving his zanpakuto in an irritated fashion, and then spun quickly to slap away the Hollow’s tail. Renji’s segmented zanpakuto flashed out and caught in the Hollow’s claw, twisting it off, causing the Hollow to scream again. It flailed its stump, black fluid running out of the wound, turning to present its smaller, uninjured claw to guard against another strike from Renji.

The whole time, Ichigo and Renji had some sort of running commentary going on, barely paying any attention to the monster they were fighting. Sam caught Ichigo glancing down, and suddenly understood that he was showing off. For him.

Sam was charmed. He couldn’t believe it. When was the last time anyone cared enough about what he thought to put on a show for him? 

Not in recent memory. 

Maybe he had a chance with Ichigo after all.

Rukia hadn’t engaged in the battle, hanging back with her arms folded, foot tapping in increasing irritation. She glanced down, giving Sam an annoyed look. He shrugged. It’s not like he asked the Hollow to show up, or Ichigo to fight it. He didn’t see how he could have stopped him, though.

Sam wondered if the reason he’d been able to understand Ichigo and Rukia’s speech when they had come to America to kill the Hollow that manifested after his bad dreams was that they’d been in spirit form. He certainly didn’t understand anything they were saying right now. He made a mental note to ask Ichigo about it later, or Bobby, when he got back to the States.

Sam also wondered if could learn Japanese even half as well as Ichigo spoke English. Ichigo had only the faintest of accents, which sometimes gave his words an odd pronunciation (and whatever he did with his tongue when it came to r’s and l’s drove Sam a little crazy to think about) and a really good grasp of idioms.

If Sam had known any of the language it might have distracted him from how useless he was in the current situation. He had no weapons. The only task he had was making sure Ichigo had a body to return to. He sat on the pavement cradling Ichigo across his thighs and watched the aerial battle taking place in the darkening sky.

Rukia hollered at Renji and Ichigo, clearly exasperated. Ichigo and Renji drove the Hollow towards her as she drew her zanpakuto and then slashed the Hollow down the center of its skull. It gave one last agonized scream and dissolved into fragments, and then Rukia turned to Ichigo and Renji and gave the two men a short, but intense, lecture. They gave her identical chagrined looks as they sheathed their swords. Renji looked down at Sam, then over at Ichigo, smirking, and Rukia smacked him across the back of the head. Renji hunched his shoulders, muttering. Ichigo glowered at Renji, arms crossed, until Rukia made a shooing gesture at Ichigo. He turned, shouting over his shoulder at the other Shinigami as they ran across the sky, disappearing quickly. Then Ichigo floated down to where Sam had his body sprawled across his thighs. 

Ichigo hovered there for a long moment giving Sam a considering look. Then he dove back into himself.

It was the strangest sensation for Sam to feel the inert body quickening in his arms and turning to look up at him.

Sam was unwilling to release Ichigo, and Ichigo seemed content not to be released. He stared up at Sam, breathing fast. Sam stayed perfectly still, not wanting to make a move until or unless Ichigo did.

Ichigo did.

He tipped his head back slowly in invitation, eyes never leaving Sam’s face. Sam leaned down, mouth hovering over Ichigo’s, and stopped there, breathing across his lips.

“Do it,” Ichigo whispered, lips moving against Sam’s as they formed the words.

“No,” Sam said, soft but definite. This wasn’t his move to make. “You have to do it.”

Ichigo grabbed Sam’s head, palms on his cheekbones, fingers tangled in his hair, and pulled him down, mashing Sam’s mouth onto his. It was a messy, graceless, inexperienced kiss, and it was a hard angle for Sam to maintain. He pulled Ichigo up and Ichigo scrambled across Sam’s lap to straddle his hips.

 

Sam moaned as the seam of Ichigo’s pants rubbed across his fly, distended by his growing erection. He cupped his hands around Ichigo’s ass, pulling him closer, feeling his sweaty heat as he rocked against Sam.

Ichigo’s kisses were sloppy and unpracticed, as frenzied as his grinding on Sam. Oxygen became an issue.

Sam pulled his head away and gasped, “Ichigo, slow down.”

Ichigo strained back towards Sam, eyes focused on Sam’s mouth.

“How?”

“I’ll show you,” Sam murmured. He slid his arm up Ichigo’s back, and cradled Ichigo’s head in his palm, noting how soft and sweaty Ichigo’s hair felt in his hand. He brushed his lips slowly and lightly across Ichigo’s. Ichigo inhaled sharply as Sam pressed his mouth down a little harder, tracing Ichigo’s lips with his tongue. Ichigo moaned and opened his mouth, crumpling Sam’s shirt up in his hands. Sam stroked Ichigo’s tongue with his own patiently, stopping when Ichigo got too rough, then starting over again when he gentled. He curled his tongue around Ichigo’s, keeping the pace slow and deliberate, pulling back slightly to nip at his lower lip gently with his teeth, then going back in.

Ichigo made desperate, pleading sounds into Sam’s mouth as he mirrored Sam’s actions, and it felt _good_. Ichigo was a fast learner.

Sam tasted the sweat that rolled down both their faces as he taught Ichigo how to kiss and be kissed.

A yowling cat fight broke out in an alley near them and they startled away from each other. 

“Maybe we should -” Sam started and Ichigo said, “Let’s go home.”

Ichigo scrambled off Sam’s lap and stood, offering his hand, not looking at him. Sam let himself be pulled up, then let go, and they ambled back to Kurosaki Clinic. The humid night had a clammy, chill edge to it and Sam shivered a little, hands in his pockets. He looked over at Ichigo, who appeared to be shivering too, fine tremors shaking his shoulders. He was flushed and his lips were puffy.

He looked, in fact, well and thoroughly kissed.

Sam’s briefs were all bunched up around his prick, he felt damp and uncomfortable, and he wanted to yank Ichigo back to him and kiss him some more. Among other things.

Instead he looked sidelong at Ichigo until he caught Ichigo looking back. Sam smiled at him and was relieved when he saw Ichigo’s slight grin in return.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The illustration for this section is by [hanna-pirita](http://hannapirita.tumblr.com/).

When they got back to Kurosaki Clinic, Ichigo led Sam upstairs to his bedroom and opened the door. For a teenaged boy’s room, it was weirdly neat. There was a closet next to the door and a bed across from it directly under the window. The last thing was the desk, which was right next to the bed. A couple of posters on the wall advertised bands Sam had never heard of. The bed was made, the desk was clean, the chair pushed in, and the computer screen was black. It looked nothing like the rooms Sam had shared with his brother and grown up in, with unmade beds and piles of laundry (both clean and dirty) hastily straightened up when Dad came back from his hunts. If anything, it looked more like the motel rooms he and Dean used now.

The only thing out of place was the futon on the floor for Sam.

“Will you be okay here if I go take a shower?” Ichigo asked, looking anywhere but at Sam, scratching the back of his head nervously.

“Let me go to the bathroom first,” Sam replied, amused at the resurgence of Ichigo’s shyness. He used the facilities, relieved to get his dick out of the constriction of his briefs. They were more uncomfortable than ever now that his initial excitement at kissing Ichigo had worn off.

He washed his hands and face, and side-eyed the combination shower/bathtub that took up half of the room, wondering how exactly the whole apparatus worked. Then he headed back to the room. Ichigo left as soon as Sam returned, brushing past him wordlessly, head down.

Sam lay on the futon. His feet dangled off the end far enough that he could rest his heels on the floor, but that wasn’t anything he hadn’t been expecting. Mattresses that he could fit his entire body on were rare.

He closed his eyes and cataloged the sounds of the house. He heard Karin and Yuzu’s voices in the kitchen over the clinking of dishware: safe. He heard water rushing through the plumbing as Ichigo took his shower: safe. He heard the sounds of Karakura settling down for the night, which sounded like any and every city: safe. Nothing out of place, nothing that sounded like it needed his attention. He could relax.

At some point, without intending to, he dozed off.

Sam woke at the door opening, light from the hallway washing lemon-yellow across his closed eyelids. He heard Ichigo shut the door and step over him, and then the futon slowly dipped down as Ichigo settled next to him. His body heat was a long warm line down Sam’s side.

“This is a narrow futon,” Sam said, without opening his eyes. “But I think we could make it work.”

Ichigo huffed a nervous-sounding laugh that Sam felt across his lips. He rolled onto his side slowly and fitted his front to Ichigo’s. He smelled like soap and was wearing a towel around his waist. _Only_ a towel. Sam marveled at Ichigo’s brashness, impressed at his initiative. He felt overdressed.

He wondered where Ichigo’s clothes had gone.

Ichigo stretched against Sam, his lips against Sam’s, his hips against Sam’s hips, his toes on Sam’s insteps. His dick was hard and insistent against Sam’s belly, whose cock was starting to show some renewed interest in events.

“What if somebody hears us?” Sam murmured, acutely aware that they were in Ichigo’s father’s house. He was uncomfortably reminded of awkward high school groping sessions that had masqueraded as study dates.

“We’ll be _very_ quiet,” Ichigo enunciated in a whisper. When Sam didn’t immediately respond, Ichigo grabbed his left wrist and pulled his hand down to the front of the damp towel. He pushed Sam’s hand against his dick, mediated by too much terrycloth, and let go. Sam, amazed at Ichigo’s boldness, fumbled around the knot. The towel fell open and suddenly he had his hand wrapped around Ichigo’s hard, slender, and rather moist cock. Ichigo gasped and arched, breath hissing through his clenched teeth.

“Oh, _god_ ,” Sam groaned. The situation felt hyperreal. He was actually touching Ichigo. Ichigo wanted him to. Ichigo wanted it enough to overcome his own reticence, enough to force Sam out of his immobility.

Sam rolled onto his forearm so he curved over Ichigo. He gave Ichigo’s dick a gentle squeeze, and Ichigo’s surprised exclamation echoed around the room.

“I thought we had to be quiet,” Sam teased, stroking Ichigo rhythmically, hot skin moving and sliding under his hand, growing slick with sweat and the precome Ichigo was producing.

“Shut up,” Ichigo snapped, staring down to where his hips followed Sam’s hand. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his own hands until he grabbed the top edge of the futon, holding on for dear life.

“ _You_ shut up,” Sam replied, lowering himself so he could kiss Ichigo again. Ichigo kissed back frantically, letting go of the futon and gripping Sam’s biceps in his hands, thumbs digging into the skin. He moved in fits and starts: first kissing Sam, then stopping to groan into his mouth, then desperately rocking his hips as Sam worked his dick remorselessly in his fist. It was sloppy as hell, but even Ichigo’s raw inexperience left Sam hot and aching.

It didn’t take very long before Ichigo’s hips thrust up hard one more time, and he froze there for an instant. He gasped, mouth wide open against Sam’s, head thrown back against the pillow, eyes tightly shut. Sam didn’t stop. He kept his grip on Ichigo, hand moving faster, his mouth covering Ichigo’s to catch his quick startled cries as he came all over Sam and the towel, hips jerking helplessly. 

Sam’s motion slowed, and Ichigo’s sounds into his mouth tapered off into pants, and then his head dropped onto the pillow. Sam released Ichigo’s dick and lay his hand flat on Ichigo’s belly, squarely in the puddle of come. He spread his fingers, spanning the expanse of Ichigo’s stomach, his pinky finger at the base of Ichigo’s cock, palm covering his navel, and his thumb reaching the middle of Ichigo’s solar plexus, feeling his breathing slow.

"Ichigo," said Sam. Ichigo twitched, his nostrils flaring as he caught his breath. The long silence unnerved Sam. "Ichigo, are you okay? Did you like that?"

“ _Majide,_ ” Ichigo breathed, eyes still closed. He took a deep breath and said, “Definitely.”

“You sure?” Sam taunted. Ichigo’s eyes flashed open and he glared up at Sam. He pulled Sam down for a quick, aggressive kiss that left Sam’s lips feeling bruised.

“Yes,” Ichigo said firmly. He pulled the towel the rest of the way off and lifted Sam’s hand to clean it. Sam was a little nonplussed at the attention. He would’ve just wiped his hand on the comforter. Then Ichigo swiped at his abdomen and dropped the towel on the floor next to the futon.

Ichigo rolled onto his knees and pushed Sam onto his back by his shoulders. “I want to take your clothes off,” he said.

“Yes, _please,_ ” Sam murmured, happy to let Ichigo take the lead, especially if it meant both of them ended up naked. He felt hot and prickly and everything he wore chafed.

Ichigo fumbled with the buttons on Sam’s shirt, hands trembling and clumsy.

“You aren’t nervous, are you?” Sam asked, grinning.

“No,” Ichigo retorted, voice flat, not looking at him.

“Of course you aren’t,” Sam drawled. “Haven’t you done this before?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Ichigo snapped, finally getting _one_ button undone. “You know I haven’t.”

“Have you ever even kissed anybody?”

“Not since before I became a Soul Reaper. When the hell would I have time?” Ichigo replied, irritated. He started fighting with the next button, clearly running his mouth out of sheer nerves. “There’s nobody interested and no time to look. I’m either at school or killing things. Dammit!”

_Orihime’s interested,_ Sam thought about saying, but decided against it. That was a conversation for another time. Or maybe never.

Sam enjoyed the sight of Ichigo without bravado as he flung his hands away from the button in exasperation, but decided to take pity on him. He pulled Ichigo’s hands back down, holding them flat against his chest.

“It’s okay. You aren’t doing anything wrong. I want this,” he said. “Do _you_ want this?”

“Of course I do,” Ichigo said witheringly.

“Then relax. Just go with it. I’m not going to critique your unbuttoning skills. I just want you to take my clothes off.”

That got a slight smile from Ichigo, and he seemed to settle. He took a deep breath and started over again on Sam’s shirt buttons. They came undone quickly, and Sam took the opportunity to run his eyes over Ichigo’s body.

The pale orange glow of the sodium streetlights seeped through the cracks in the curtains to wash over Ichigo’s bare torso. He was slender, lithe, and muscular. He had light hair on his arms and legs; scant and silky tufts in his armpits, and a faint trail leading down from his navel to a sparse, rust-colored thatch around his balls. He was broad-shouldered, but he had that unfinished, slightly raw look that young adults had when they hadn’t entirely grown into their frames. He was actually paler than Sam, his skin a light honey color, which was unexpected. His face was longer than Sam remembered, his chin sharper, cheekbones more prominent. His hair kept falling into his eyes and he kept tossing his head to get it out of the way.

He had gone from attractive kid to arrestingly handsome young man in the two years that had elapsed from their first meeting. Sam couldn’t stop staring.

Ichigo stopped what he was doing to glare at Sam.

“What the hell are you leering at?” he hissed, eyes narrowed.

“You. I’m allowed, right? I mean, after giving you a handjob I can look, can’t I?” Sam found needling Ichigo kind of irresistible. He couldn’t stop himself from provoking him when was already pissed off at his ignorance.

Ichigo grumbled, “Jerk.”

“You’re uncircumcised,” Sam said.

“So? Does it matter?” Ichigo frowned, but didn’t look up from his work on Sam’s shirt.

“No. Just an observation. It’s not my first.”

Ichigo's expression soured further. “Your bedside manner sucks. Is it your first time for _anything_?”

“Sorry,” Sam replied, chagrined. He'd meant to reassure Ichigo, to let him know that he had enough experience to put him at ease. Instead he'd sounded like a total jerk.

He knew how cheesy he would sound, but he wanted to make up for saying something so thoughtless, so he offered, “It’s my first time with Ichigo.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, but he ducked his head down and Sam could see his small, appeased smile. He finished unbuttoning Sam’s shirt and spread it open. Sam lifted up slightly so that Ichigo could pull the shirt down and off his arms and drop it on the floor.

Air hit Sam’s chest, stiffening his nipples deliciously and he gave a happy groan. Ichigo’s hands hovered over Sam’s chest uncertainly.

“You can do whatever you want,” Sam encouraged. “Touch me where you want. However you want. I just want your hands on me.” 

Ichigo nodded and swallowed hard without looking at Sam’s face. He ran his fingers across Sam’s ribs, and swept his thumbs down Sam’s sternum. Sam lay perfectly still, not wanting to distract Ichigo and make him self-conscious again. Although being touched, especially being touched by _him_ , felt amazing.

“You can go harder,” Sam said softly. “I like it a little rough. Pinch my nipples, or pull them, or scratch me, if you want. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

At that, Ichigo dragged blunt fingernails across Sam’s skin, leaving pink streaks and raised skin in their wake. When he got to one of Sam’s nipples, he closed his fingertips around it and pinched, twisting it slightly. A jolt of pleasure zinged right down to Sam’s cock and he moaned and shifted, nerves alight and skin tingling with longed-for contact. “Oh, shit yes, Ichigo,” he gasped, hips spasming upward briefly.

He felt something in him, something he had kept clamped down and boxed in, relax and unfurl at Ichigo’s willingness -- his eagerness -- to be with him. At some point in their friendship Sam had unconsciously started straining all the stimulus he got through an Ichigo-calibrated filter, making sure that he didn’t betray his own ethics by getting too excited or thinking too much about the wrong thing. He hadn’t realized how much he had separated a part of himself from regular feeling until he was able to let it go.

Letting it go felt really good. Letting it go felt _awesome_. He exhaled a shuddering breath.

“Good?” Ichigo asked, and Sam nodded. Ichigo smiled briefly, satisfied, and scored Sam’s skin until it was uniformly red and sensitive, yanking on and rubbing his nipples until they were flushed and tight, intently watching Sam’s reactions.

“Yes, yeah, perfect, Ichigo, do that more,” Sam whispered, shifting. “Could you use your mouth?”

Ichigo directed an annoyed glance at Sam, and then leaned over, putting his lips on Sam’s collarbone. Sam felt the heat of Ichigo’s skin as it arched over him. Ichigo flickered his tongue across and down into the hollow of Sam’s throat, moving downward. Sam shivered, his sensitized skin rising in goosebumps, and moved restlessly underneath Ichigo. “Oh yes, oh Ichigo, Ichigo, yeah,” he moaned, arching his back. He groaned louder and louder, forgetting himself in all the sensation.

“Sam, _damare_!” Ichigo said, stopping what he was doing to glare at him.

“What?” Sam panted, trying to gather his wits.

“Be quiet,” Ichigo admonished him, a half-smile on his face. They both froze as the sound of pounding feet approached the bedroom door and then passed it, accompanied by chattering girl-voices, cut off when Yuzu and Karin went into their bedroom.

“Oh fine,” Sam said, needled, and Ichigo smirked at him. "Shut up."

Sam flopped back and stared at the ceiling, biting his lips closed as Ichigo kissed and nipped his way down to the waistband of his jeans. He pressed himself back into the futon, gripping it on either side, to remind himself to keep the noise to a minimum.

Ichigo hesitated over the top button of Sam’s fly, lips barely touching it.

“God, just do it, please,” Sam begged in a low voice.

Ichigo unsnapped and unzipped Sam’s fly, hands shaking once more. Sam lifted his hips as Ichigo pulled Sam’s jeans and briefs down and off him completely. Sam groaned again in relief as he was freed. He was surprised that he felt a little anxious at what Ichigo thought about his body now that he was completely naked and his total arousal was evident. Sam looked down to see Ichigo’s gaze riveted on his erection.

“What?” Sam said, quirking his eyebrow and resisting the urge to cross his arms defensively across his chest. Instead he put his hands flat on his stomach, enjoying the way Ichigo’s eyes tracked the movement. “See something you like?”

“Circumcised.”

“Punk,” Sam said, amused. “Is that really all you have to say?”

Ichigo folded his arms and huffed. He kept flicking looks over at Sam’s crotch, then away, scowling, his face bright red. “Well, what should I _do_?”

“What do you want to do?” Sam wasn’t going to order Ichigo around. Like the kiss, Ichigo had to decide where his boundaries were and what actions he felt comfortable taking.

Ichigo didn’t say anything, he just regarded Sam’s dick, frowning, nervously scratching the back of his head again. He shook his head slightly, as if he couldn’t say what he wanted or didn’t even know what to do first. Like he needed permission to try.

Sam reached up and pulled Ichigo down on top of him, his breath puffing out as Ichigo’s sudden weight compressed his ribs and lungs. Skin met heated skin and Sam arranged them so his already-hard cock rubbed alongside Ichigo’s softer one. Ichigo’s eyes went wide and dark and surprised as the friction hit him and he fell hungrily into Sam’s kiss, holding Sam by the shoulders, his kisses still frenzied and uncontrolled. The unconscious way Ichigo moved his hips into the grooves of Sam’s threatened to derail his train of thought entirely. He broke the kiss and lifted Ichigo’s chin so he was looking Ichigo in the eyes. Ichigo stared dazedly back at him, panting, mouth open mid-kiss, the tip of his tongue sticking out, which Sam found strangely endearing.

“I really want to feel your mouth on me,” he said. “But I only want that if you want to do it.”

Ichigo shivered and pulled back. His gaze cleared and his eyes darted down, up, to the side, then back to Sam’s face. His eyes blazed with desire, a burning hot amber, contrasting with the angry twist of his mouth and eyebrows and the way he gripped the comforter in one fist, knuckles whitening.

“Okay,” Ichigo capitulated, releasing the blanket. “Okay.”

Ichigo slid slowly down Sam’s body. He felt every inch of Ichigo’s hot and sweaty skin moving on him as Ichigo spread Sam’s legs wider and knelt between them. Sam felt his heels thump on the floor on either side of the futon, and winced a little at the noise. His breath caught in surprise when Ichigo stroked his hips with his thumbs, and he arched up off the futon slightly. Ichigo explored him carefully, taking his time, running long cool fingers around Sam’s balls and further back, and then finally, lightly, over Sam’s dick. Sam was damn near hyperventilating by the time Ichigo finished his initial investigation of his pelvic region.

Then Ichigo bent over and slowly, experimentally, licked the side of Sam’s cock, from root to crown.

“Oh fu-” Sam slapped both hands over his mouth to prevent his exclamation from escaping and tried to think about walk-in freezers, meat lockers, landfills, anything to keep him from coming right then and there. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch Ichigo, hoping it would distract him.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

It wasn’t distracting in the slightest to watch Ichigo toy with his dick, holding it in one hand while licking up the sides in swirls and spirals. Sam clenched his fists slowly in the comforter and gritted his teeth, feeling sweat break out on his skin as he held himself still. Every nerve ending he had was engaged in what Ichigo was doing, he felt the slightest breath Ichigo exhaled on his skin, the lightest scrape of teeth dragging on the thin flesh of his dick.

Sam saw Ichigo keeping one eye on his reactions as he made his way up to the flared head of Sam’s cock. He tried not to worry about the size of his dick versus the possible size of Ichigo’s mouth. He didn’t want to gag Ichigo or get bitten.

Ichigo slipped the head into his mouth and held it with his lips, flickering his tongue around the slit, tasting Sam’s precome. Ichigo’s delicacy in doing this went a long way towards alleviating Sam’s worry. It felt great, but he wanted more, wanted to slide his fingers into Ichigo’s hair and urge his head further onto his cock, so he reached down. Ichigo slapped Sam’s hand away without even looking. He took his mouth off Sam and glowered at him.

“ _Don’t,_ ” Ichigo said.

“Sorry. You don’t like that?”

“ _I’m_ the one doing this. Let me do it,” Ichigo snapped, and then took Sam’s dick into his mouth as far as he could, which wasn’t actually very far, just the head and a little bit more. Not that Sam was complaining.

The head of his cock bumped the ridges of Ichigo’s hard palate in gratifying wet friction and Sam stifled a grunt, trying not to thrust any deeper. He reached down again and Ichigo stiffened, but Sam only wrapped his hand around Ichigo’s, and showed him how to move it up and down his dick in time with his mouth, using saliva as a lubricant.

“Just like that. Oh shit, oh god, Ichigo, oh faster, harder,” Sam pleaded, his voice strained to stay at a whisper. Ichigo went faster, and squeezed Sam’s dick a little bit harder. 

“That’s good, Ichigo, your mouth is so fucking good. I’m going to...you’re going to make me...” Sam rolled his hips, working his dick through Ichigo’s hand and into his mouth as fast as he could. He felt his orgasm build, electricity racing over his skin and sizzling down his spine, as he arched and moaned, “Ichigo,” drawing the last vowel out as he squeezed Ichigo’s hand tightly around him, pulsing and shaking in his grip.

Things went white and staticky for a while.


	5. Chapter 5

When the world started to make sense again, Sam was flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, legs and arms splayed off either side of the futon. His chest heaved as he caught his breath. He heard coughing and spitting and leaned up on his elbows to look at Ichigo.

Ichigo knelt between Sam’s thighs, face scarlet. He repeatedly cleared his throat, spat, and wiped his mouth with the discarded towel, massaging the side of his jaw with his fingers and wincing a little. He swiped his forearm across his watering eyes.

“Sorry,” Sam gasped. “I guess I should’ve given you some warning.”

“It’s not like I couldn’t tell. We’re both guys. I wanted to know what you tasted like anyway.” Sam could tell Ichigo was trying to be casual, but he also seemed a little shocked. “It was just more intense than I thought it would be.”

Ichigo lay down next to Sam on the futon, leg over Sam’s thigh, not quite nestling into his side.

“Which part?” Sam asked, looking down at the top of Ichigo’s head, resting on his shoulder. Ichigo tilted his face up, meeting Sam’s gaze, brows furrowed.

“What?”

“Which part was more intense than you thought it would be? The size? The taste? The volume? The force?” Sam grinned. “The size?”

Ichigo’s face stayed crimson and he scowled at Sam, who grinned even more widely.

In some ways, Ichigo reminded him a little of Dean. Not in any weird ways, but there were some prickly aspects to the both of them that Sam found comfortingly familiar, quirks he could deal with.

Getting to know Ichigo through email over the past two years gave him a certain level of insight into Ichigo’s personality. But it gave him very little to go on when it came to this situation. Sam was familiar with Ichigo’s discomfort with overt flirtation, his first instinct to hit at whatever made him angry, and his unwillingness to show weakness. He didn’t know if part of Ichigo’s diffidence was an intense fear of losing the people closest to him. Maybe it was cultural, or due to a lack of experience. Or Ichigo not being sure of Sam and the situation. Or all of the above.

Probably all of the above.

In a similar vein, Dean was manifestly reticent about openly showing affection. Sam knew that for him it was a definitely a question of protecting himself. Dean’s fear of losing the people close to him was intense; it was the coiled energy that drove him to protect everyone, especially his loved ones. When you were never sure who was going to die on you, getting too attached to anyone was unwise.

Even if he could deal with and understand the reasons Dean and Ichigo were physically or emotionally standoffish, Sam was an unabashed cuddler. Liking the way Ichigo felt next to him, Sam pulled him a little closer. Ichigo was just going to have to put up with it until Sam left.

Ichigo didn’t seem to mind, however, letting himself be drawn against Sam’s side.

“What do I taste like?”

“Acidic, bitter, and kind of salty.”

“So not very tasty at all.”

“Fushigi-na aji-dane,”* Ichigo snickered at Sam, although he could see the nervousness it masked. Sam wondered if Ichigo would always lapse into Japanese whenever he felt too exposed.

“Not really,” Ichigo clarified, smirk firmly in place.

“Oh, and I’m sure you taste like cotton candy,” Sam rolled Ichigo onto his back, pulling him to the middle of the futon, and pinned his wrists above his head, knees on either side of Ichigo’s hips.

Ichigo, naturally, put up a fight at Sam’s surprise attack, but Sam had the size advantage. “If you’re going to be provoking, you should be prepared for some retaliation,” he said, grinning down at Ichigo. He liked the feeling of Ichigo pinned beneath him, pushing against his hold. He liked the friction of Ichigo’s skin on the inside of his thighs, slippery with sweat, as he tried to throw Sam off. The thought of how Ichigo’s legs would feel wrapped around his waist, muscles tense with exertion, made his breath hitch.

“What are you struggling for? I promise you’ll enjoy this.”

Ichigo bared his teeth in a mutinous snarl, eyes blazing.

“Let me go, dammit,” he snapped.

“In a minute,” Sam responded in a singsong voice. Holding Ichigo’s wrists easily in one hand, he reached between their bodies to Ichigo’s dick and balls, cupping them gently. They were hot and a little sticky in his palm, and he stroked the side of Ichigo’s flaccid cock gently with his thumb, moving the foreskin slightly. Ichigo gasped and closed his eyes, suddenly pliant, hips straining upwards.

“If I let go of you, will you behave?” Sam asked quietly.

“ _Hai_ ,” Ichigo whispered, not opening his eyes. “Yes. I will.”

Ichigo’s sudden submission was definitely unlike him. Or what Sam knew of him. The idea that he could draw such a reaction out of Ichigo was a serious turn-on. Was this how Ichigo showed his trust in Sam?

Sam didn’t think for a minute that this was a lasting capitulation. Sam was sure this submission, whatever its source, wouldn't last very long. Ichigo was too impatient, too accustomed to being in control himself to relinquish it for more than a few minutes

But Sam would take it at face value. He would take it and run.

“Because otherwise I’ll have to stop what I'm doing, and I don’t think you want that, do you?” This was a totally empty threat, there was no way Sam was going to stop, not now, not while he could feel Ichigo’s cock grow hard under his hand. Ichigo didn’t have to know that, though.

Ichigo shook his head, mumuring, “ _Ie_.”

Sam released Ichigo’s wrists and his arms stayed in that position, crossed above his head, resting on the futon. He brushed his lips across Ichigo’s collarbone, tasting the sweat pooled in the hollow of his throat. It stung his lips, dry from air travel and friction, and crept to the corners of his mouth. Sam tasted the sea as he licked Ichigo’s sweat from his lips and drew a wet line with the tip of his tongue to the middle of Ichigo’s sternum. Ichigo lay very still, breathing quickly.

Sam moved his mouth to one of Ichigo’s nipples. It was a flat disk, smoother than the surrounding skin until Sam swirled his tongue roughly around it. The sweaty ends of Sam’s hair trailed across Ichigo’s skin leaving goosebumps in its wake, smaller than the tiny hot nub of flesh Sam held gently in his teeth. Ichigo moaned softly on every exhale, body undulating feverishly against Sam wherever they touched, distracting and enticing.

Sam had to pause for a minute to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. He needed to slow down, but it was hard. He hadn’t expected Ichigo to be so responsive or willing. He rested his forehead on Ichigo’s breastbone, inhaling his scent, taking deep, slow breaths. Ichigo stopped moving when Sam did.

“Sam?” Ichigo’s voice came tentatively from above.

“I’m okay,” Sam said quickly. “Just needed a minute. You’re, um,” he cleared his throat. “It’s difficult to hold myself back.”

Silence. Then, “Why?”

A tumult of words clamored to be the first out of Sam’s mouth. He clenched his teeth to stop them from tumbling out in an embarrassing series of confessions. Instead he went for the obvious, what was in front of him. Which was still the truth, just not all of it.

“Because you’re hot, you’re here, you want me to do this, and I want to make it good for you.” Sam nipped Ichigo’s skin lightly, eliciting a surprised yelp. “Now be quiet and let me work. Or I really will stop.”

Ichigo grumbled slightly at being told what to do, but subsided quickly as Sam gave his other nipple the same treatment. When he was done, both were hard and small and flushed, obvious even in the semi-dark of the room, and Ichigo was panting and moving restlessly under Sam again.

Sam gently placed open-mouthed kisses on Ichigo’s skin as he traveled down his torso. Ichigo kept catching his breath, his skin jumping in reaction to the unfamiliar stimulation, small gasps escaping him. He threaded his fingers into Sam’s hair, awkwardly stroking his scalp with his fingertips. Sam reached up and found Ichigo’s other hand, lacing their fingers together, trying to ground him. Ichigo clutched them.

Sam felt the contrast between the ridges that were muscles and the smooth lines that were scars, tracing them with his tongue, until he reached the trail of hair below Ichigo’s navel.

“I’ll be damned,” Sam said, faking amazement. “That really is your natural hair color.”

Ichigo kicked him in the ribs.

“Careful. I’m going to have your cock in my mouth in a minute.”

“At least you’ll be quiet then,” Ichigo muttered grouchily, surprising a quiet laugh out of Sam.

As part of his whole “slowing down” strategy, Sam bypassed the obvious temptation of Ichigo’s cock to explore further down. He spread Ichigo’s thighs wide, fingers splayed on his skin, so he could lick down the hip-cut to his balls. Ichigo grunted sharply as Sam’s tongue stroked around them carefully, noting their weight and movement, how cool they were in contrast to the heat of his mouth, the coarse crinkling of Ichigo’s pubic hair against his lips.

“ _Kudasai_ , Sam,” Ichigo whispered, trying to push his cock against any surface Sam offered. “ _Kudasai_.”**

Sam finally moved up to Ichigo’s dick. It rose from the foreskin, slick and redder than the surrounding flesh. Sam traced the tip of his tongue just under the edge of that sleeve of skin up to the underside of the head of his cock. There was no rough spot just under the head for him to drag his tongue across, like there would be on a cut guy, so Sam had to content himself with just circling the ridge of the crown. Ichigo made a surprised sound and his hips twitched, but he didn’t try to drive himself further into Sam’s mouth.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” Sam murmured. “You have to let me know if I’m too rough.”

“I can take it,” Ichigo replied matter-of-factly. Sam looked up at Ichigo, who still had his eyes closed.

“I don’t want you to just take it, Ichigo,” Sam replied, annoyed. “I want you to enjoy it. If I suspect for a minute you’re just putting up with what I’m doing, I’ll stop. So you’re going to have to open your mouth and give me some feedback.”

“ _Hai_ , Winchester-sensei,” Ichigo muttered sarcastically.

“Oh, you can call me that whenever you want,” Sam smiled. “I like how it sounds when you say it.”

“ _Ecchi_ ,”*** Ichigo said. “I thought you were getting back to work.”

Sam snorted. But it was true, he could do better things right now with his mouth than banter with Ichigo.

Ichigo was neither as long nor as thick as Sam, and Sam’s mouth was bigger. Sam was also just more experienced at giving blowjobs, so he was able to swallow Ichigo down in one glorious motion, bumping the tip of his nose on Ichigo’s stomach.

Ichigo gulped and jerked, one hand squeezing Sam’s fingers painfully, the other gripping his hair. He moaned as Sam slowly drew his mouth up Ichigo’s shaft, leaving it liberally slathered with spit. Sam went down again in a similarly leisurely fashion, getting a feel for Ichigo’s responses.

Ichigo let go of Sam’s hair to flail around and grab the pillow. He clamped it over his face to muffle astonished-sounding cries as Sam relentlessly sucked him off. Sam tried to stay with Ichigo, taking his cue to move faster from the way Ichigo’s hips undulated, reflexively thrusting his cock into Sam’s mouth. He wasn’t worried all that much about gagging, Ichigo simply wasn’t long enough for it, not in this position anyway. He was worried about his teeth, so he covered them with his lips as much as he could so Ichigo’s frantic bucking wouldn’t get him snagged on them.

He felt Ichigo’s feet brace on either side of him, one heel pressing into his upper thigh, the other behind him against his ass. His spit ran down Ichigo’s balls and further back, which was exactly what Sam intended. He ran his fingers across the perineum and rubbed the saliva around Ichigo’s anus, causing another shuddering recoil.

“Hey, Ichigo.” Ichigo looked at Sam over the edge of the pillow, eyes dark and somewhat vague. “Can I put a finger inside you?” After a long moment, Ichigo nodded slowly.

“Just relax. If you want me to stop, tell me, and I will,” Sam said.

Ichigo lifted the pillow up long enough to snap, “Just shut up and do it.”

“So touchy,” Sam murmured, smiling. He slid Ichigo’s dick back into his mouth, gently inching down it, playing his tongue along the slippery skin until Ichigo tossed his hips, distracted from anything else Sam might have planned.

Sam’s index finger glided back behind Ichigo’s balls and circled soft, wrinkled skin, easing it open at the center. He slipped his finger inside in slow increments, letting Ichigo’s shudders of adjustment guide him. He was so tight, so completely untried, that Sam wondered if he would be able to get his cock inside Ichigo without hurting him. If that was the direction they went in.

Jesus, how hot and smooth Ichigo was inside once Sam moved past his entrance. The sleek clamping of his muscles around Sam’s finger was breathtaking. The potential effect it might have on his dick was hard to ignore.

Sam managed to get in up to his last knuckle, although spit wasn’t the best lubricant for what he was doing. He drew his finger out slowly, and added his middle finger, stretching Ichigo a little wider, cradling Ichigo’s balls in his palm. Ichigo lay still, breathing rapidly, pillow dropped to the side, obviously making himself relax.

Sam felt tremors through Ichigo’s hand on the back of his head, and knew that what he was doing was good. His tiny rocking motions up and down Sam’s fingers and his choked little moans probably meant he wasn’t in pain. Sam had to check anyway.

“Okay?” Sam asked again. Ichigo looked down at him. He seemed to be having trouble remembering language.

“ _Hai_ ,” he finally breathed. “D-don’t stop.”

Sam smiled. “Wasn’t planning to,” he said. “I want to make absolutely certain that you don’t taste like cotton candy.” Ichigo made a disgusted noise and Sam chuckled.

He stilled his fingers and reapplied himself to Ichigo’s neglected blowjob. He moved his mouth up and down Ichigo’s dick, adding his hand to the slippery length, careful with the motion of the foreskin. He bent his fingers inside Ichigo, rubbing against his inner walls, stretching him a little, getting him used to the sensation of being filled. Ichigo groaned through his teeth, moving with Sam’s mouth, shoving himself down onto Sam’s fingers.

Then Sam found the spot he was looking for and pushed his fingertips gently, but with increasing pressure, against it.

“ _Kuso_!” Ichigo shouted, completely forgetting the noise restriction. He arced right off the futon, thrusting quickly and in and out of Sam’s mouth as he held Sam’s head still by the hair. Sam felt the hot grip of Ichigo’s inner muscles as his balls drew up tight and he came. Ichigo threw his arm over his face to muffle his voice, breaking on the syllables of Sam’s name in gasps and stutters. “S-Sa-am! Sam! Ah, Sam!"

Sam liked the sound of that a _lot_.

He felt the pulses of Ichigo’s dick against his lips, tasting the hot salty spurts of come as he heard Ichigo trying and failing to keep his voice down. God, he wanted more of that, so much more. He wanted to make Ichigo scream. They had to get somewhere where he could do that.

Sam stayed with Ichigo as he sank down onto the futon, hand falling off Sam’s head to grip the bedclothes. He held Ichigo in his mouth until he softened, simply unwilling to let go, and let the pressure of Ichigo’s muscles push out his fingers.

Sam looked around for the much-abused towel. He spat into it, and then wiped off his mouth and hand. Ichigo lay there breathless, glistening with sweat, his eyes closed. His expression was, for once, not guarded or angry. Sam thought he looked beautifully sated and unself-conscious, and it was a good look for him.

Sam grabbed the pillow and put it under his head as he collapsed, completely wrung out, next to Ichigo. He had to lay on his side, because Ichigo was hogging the futon, which was a miracle in itself, given that he was smaller than Sam. He splayed impressively across the majority of it.

Ichigo turned his head, expression curious. “ _Oishikatta desu ka_?”**** he asked.

“You need to quit that if you expect me to answer your questions,” Sam said with weary humor.

Ichigo shook his head, giving Sam an irritated look, and took a deep breath.

“Do I taste good?” Ichigo translated.

“You taste like salty bleach,” Sam replied. “And pretzels. And something else I haven’t figured out yet. But I like it.”

Ichigo frowned, and then snorted ruefully. He picked up Sam’s hand, regarding the fingers speculatively. Two of them were hotter than the others, and Ichigo rubbed his thumb across them. Sam gasped, surprised at their hypersensitivity. Ichigo glanced up at him, nonplussed, then back down.

“I guess you can use something other than fingers,” Ichigo said, not exactly making it a question.

“I can. I have. Do you want to?”

Ichigo’s gaze trailed down Sam’s body, fastening again on his dick, quiet now against Sam’s thigh. A thoroughly lascivious smile spread over his face, and Sam was taken aback at Ichigo’s unembarrassed interest.

“I think I would,” he said, looking back up at Sam, smile still voracious. Ichigo looked like he wanted to eat Sam, just devour him, and that was simultaneously unsettling and really fucking hot. How would he do it? Sam wondered. He knew what he wanted to do if he was allowed to have his way with Ichigo. Did Ichigo have things he wanted to do as well? Now that Ichigo had the opening, would he take it?

“Well, we can’t do it here,” Sam said. “I’m pretty sure there’s no way we could be quiet if I fucked you.”

*"It's an unusual taste,"  
** "Please, Sam," "Please."  
*** "Pervert,"  
**** "Was it delicious?" or "Did it taste good?"


	6. Chapter 6

Sam had _really_ wanted to say that differently, like maybe imply that his interest wasn’t just in getting Ichigo somewhere that they could have loud sex, but the sentence reeled out of him before it checked in with his brain. It hung in the air like a flashing neon sign and Sam’s ears burned. 

_Smooth, Sam. Just velvety-freaking-smooth._

Ichigo flushed, staring at Sam wide-eyed and speechless, all his insolence gone. Sam noted with interest that Ichigo blushed all the way down his chest, not just on his face. 

Given recent events, it was ridiculous that either of them were blushing at all.

Sam yawned hugely, unable to stop himself, and that seemed to break the tension. He gave Ichigo a rueful smile, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry, it’s just been a really long day.” 

Ichigo smiled at him, a surprisingly sweet, good-natured smile that was the total opposite of his guarded smirks.

“I know. It’s okay. I’m going to get some water. You want any?” 

Sam nodded and Ichigo stood. He put on a robe and went out into the hallway. Sam drowsed until Ichigo came back with two glasses. He kicked his bedroom door shut with his foot and handed one of the glasses to Sam when he sat up.

“Thanks,” Sam said after downing the water in one gulp. Then he lay back down. He wondered if any awkwardness would arise between the two of them, especially given how prudish Ichigo had shown himself to be when it came to romancing anyone his own age. But Sam was too worn out to ponder it all right now. He would deal with it tomorrow if it needed dealing with. 

He was a little surprised when Ichigo settled down next to him after shucking his robe. Nonplussed, but in no way unhappy. It was a tight fit with Sam laying on his back taking up most of the futon, so Ichigo lay on his side, against Sam’s ribcage, head on Sam’s shoulder. Sam stroked the strands of hair that fell against the nape of Ichigo’s neck, finding them sweaty and silky and hypnotically soothing. He had thought Ichigo’s hair would be coarse, but it wasn’t. It slid smoothly through his fingers.

He felt Ichigo staring up at him.

“What?” Sam finally said.

“Did you come to see me planning on this?” There was only curiosity in Ichigo’s question, no accusation.

“I came to celebrate your 18th birthday. I _hoped_ something like this would happen, but it would’ve been okay if it didn’t.” Sam stroked his fingertips up and down Ichigo’s spine, and Ichigo stretched against Sam like a cat, his unconscious sensuality all kinds of interesting, given that he was still nude. “I like you, Ichigo. I really look forward to your emails and we have a lot in common. But I respect you, too, and I would’ve done whatever you were comfortable with, even if it was nothing.” 

Ichigo looked thoughtful. He absently scratched the back of his head, then draped his arm across Sam’s stomach, which gratified Sam beyond all reason, that Ichigo was comfortable enough with him to do even that much.

“When I saw you, I sort of hoped something like this would happen,” Ichigo said. “I was just surprised you felt the same way. I mean, I was happy, but I didn’t expect it. I thought you liked girls. I thought _I_ liked girls.”

“You probably do like girls. I like girls. But sometimes, I like guys,” Sam affirmed. “I tend to like individual people instead of confining myself to a specific gender. I think it’s okay to be attracted to all kinds of people.”

Despite wanting to talk it over with Ichigo, Sam felt himself drifting off. A long transpacific flight plus a long social day plus an epic makeout session equaled one Sam Winchester in a near-coma. With all the bodily fluids he’d expended, he was surprised he wasn’t a dried out husk.

“I need to sleep,” Sam said. “We can talk more tomorrow.”

As he started to drop off, he heard Ichigo whisper something.

“Hm?” 

“Nothing,” Ichigo replied, then murmured, “Best birthday present _ever_.” 

He said it in English, so Sam could only assume he was meant to hear it. He smiled and ran his fingers through Ichigo’s hair again. He rested his hand on Ichigo’s shoulder and fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam woke up to a room that was bright in spite of Ichigo’s blackout curtains. He had no idea what time it was.

Because there was no room for him on the futon with Sam sleeping on it, Ichigo sprawled bonelessly across Sam’s chest, head tucked under Sam’s chin, arm dangling off the side of his ribcage, and one leg thrown across Sam’s thighs. Which was all pretty wonderful, but Ichigo was heavy and hot, which made Sam sweaty. He also had to pee, his mouth tasted terrible, and the previous night’s dried secretions had matted his pubic hair, pulling the skin of his balls uncomfortably. He tried to slide out from under Ichigo without waking him, but Ichigo raised his head, alert. Sam tried not to snicker at how Ichigo’s hair stood up all over his head in a bright orange corona.

“Hey,” he said. Ichigo gave Sam a sleepy smile. Sam caught his breath, stunned at how uncharacteristically adorable Ichigo was that way.

“Where are you going?” Ichigo asked, voice drowsy and soft and also adorable. Sam mentally slapped himself, telling his inner romantic to take a hike.

“The bathroom, to shower. Where are the towels?”

Ichigo told him, and Sam retrieved his shaving kit. The comforter, rucked up at the bottom of the futon, became a makeshift robe.

“I’ll be right back,” Sam said.

“Wait,” Ichigo stood and pressed his completely naked self against Sam, initiating a slow, languid kiss, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck. Sam, surprised, automatically put his arms around Ichigo, pulling him closer, and the comforter fell off. Ichigo made a satisfied sound, wiggling against him. Sam snorted, half-amused and half-irritated. Also half-hard, and Ichigo was obviously ready to go, too.

“I must taste disgusting,” Sam said when Ichigo finally let him come up for air.

“I didn’t notice,” Ichigo replied.

“Well, you don’t taste bad either, but I want to brush my teeth at the very least,” Sam replied, retrieving the comforter and rewrapping it around him. God forbid he run into Yuzu or Karin when he had an Ichigo-inspired semi. He’d have to kill himself.

Or Ichigo’s father, for that matter, who would probably just kill him.

“Hmph,” Ichigo said, stepping away from Sam and flopping onto his own bed, sulky.

Sam smiled and shook his head slightly. He remembered the first times after sleeping with someone new and the insatiability it unleashed. He also knew, now, the value of delayed gratification. But how much could he reasonably teach Ichigo, even over a long weekend? Was he doing Ichigo a disservice, opening him up to this experience, then leaving?

Was he being a totally selfish bastard doing this?

Sam willed himself to stop perseverating. If Ichigo hadn’t seemed like a willing and enthusiastic participant, he wouldn’t have done anything.

Sam got towels from the hall closet, and then went into the bathroom. He faced the odd bathing arrangement and saw with relief that the shower was relatively intuitive, even if it was totally separate from the bathtub.

When he stepped into the spray of water, the steam rising around him smelled like Ichigo for the briefest instant, and Sam was distracted again by trying to figure out what the complex scent reminded him of. Then it rinsed away and Sam soaped and shampooed quickly. Afterwards, he brushed his teeth and shaved, and then wrapped the towel around his waist to head back to Ichigo’s room, carrying the comforter with him.

When he got back into the bedroom, he noticed Ichigo laying on his stomach on his own bed, pillow over his head. The air was thick and sex-funky.

“We need some oxygen in here,” Sam sat next to Ichigo and leaned over him to slide the window open more widely. The air flowed in, warm and humid, but relatively fresh.

Sam trailed a fingertip down Ichigo’s spine, delicately tracing around the vertebrae and the definition of the muscles. He was stupidly entranced by the length and beauty of Ichigo’s back.

“Do you think anyone heard us last night?” Sam asked. Ichigo’s muscles tensed, and then he shivered and arched as Sam drew circles and spirals around the base of Ichigo’s backbone, moving lower to his ass. Slipping one finger into the cleft, Sam stroked the skin lightly. “And have you had any thoughts on what we’re going to do about this?” Sam queried, fingertip circling Ichigo’s anus, tickling the soft, tissue-like skin.

Ichigo lifted off the bed a little more, ass a little higher in the air. He pulled his head out from under the pillow and glared at Sam over his shoulder.

“I can’t think at all when you do that,” he grumbled.

“What a shame,” Sam said with zero sincerity, and leaned down to kiss Ichigo, fingers still lightly touching, circling, and stroking him. Ichigo’s breath came fast into Sam’s mouth.

Someone pounded on the door, shouting, and Sam and Ichigo flailed away from each other. Ichigo yelled back, the teenager resurfacing for a moment. The person outside the door, most likely Karin, Sam mused, since Yuzu didn’t seem like the yelling type, went away.

Ichigo looked down at himself, glowering at his softening dick.

“What did she say?” Sam asked.

“She said to get my lazy butt out of bed so that Yuzu could make us breakfast.”

“Lazy,” Sam eyed Ichigo, letting his gaze roll slowly over him. “Not the descriptor I would’ve used. Other words come to mind.”

Ichigo scowled and blushed, turning his head to the side. Sam chuckled.

“I guess I’d better get dressed, then. I really don’t want to disappoint Yuzu.” Sam got up.

“I’ll meet you downstairs. I need to shower,” Ichigo said, still avoiding Sam’s gaze.


	8. Chapter 8

Yuzu greeted Sam with a carefully pronounced, “Good morning!”

“Good morning, Yuzu,” Sam replied. “Could I please have some coffee?”

“ _Hai!_ ” Yuzu indicated a chair, and Sam sat as she bustled around the kitchen.

A tall, dark-haired man in a doctor’s coat came in and stopped when he saw Sam. Sam stood up, positive that the words ‘I seduced your son last night’ were visible on every inch of his skin. 

“You must be Ichigo’s friend from America -- Sam, is it?” he said in a bluff, overly-loud voice.

“Yes, sir. Nice to meet you, Dr. Kurosaki. Thank you for your hospitality,” Sam shook his hand. He felt like his face was on fire.

“Not at all! It’s always nice to meet Ichigo’s friends!” Dr. Kurosaki waved at Sam to sit again, which Sam did.

“He’s, uh, he’s showering.” Sam tried really hard not to look as if he might have been the reason for Ichigo’s showering twice in fewer than 12 hours. “He’ll be right down.”

Yuzu handed Sam a mug, and he smiled his thanks. There was a pounding of feet descending the stairs and Ichigo’s father leapt out of his chair to stand by the doorway. Sam glanced over at Yuzu, curious, but she avoided his gaze, radiating embarrassment.

Ichigo came through the door and Dr. Kurosaki pounced on him. Ichigo was on the defensive at first, but quickly gained the upper hand, beating his father back with a roundhouse kick to the face, shouting at him. Then Yuzu started a stream of completely uncharacteristic invective until the kitchen was suddenly a cacophony of deafening Kurosakis. Ichigo and his father lurched back and forth across the kitchen, miraculously missing the table, the appliances and everything except the wall and doorway.

Sam stood up so fast that his chair hit the wall, not sure what to do. He knew from Ichigo’s emails that this was a common occurrence. Dr. Kurosaki liked to make sure that Ichigo’s fighting skills were honed to a fine point, and used surprise attacks to keep him alert. It made Sam grateful, in retrospect, that his own father’s training exercises had been confined to specific times and places.

Sam was also suddenly grateful that Dr. Kurosaki hadn’t barged into Ichigo’s room last night and caught them _in flagrante_. God only knew how that would have turned out.

Ichigo knocked his father down and stood on his back, panting and sweaty. Silence briefly reigned. Then he yelled a final curse at his father, and stalked over to Sam.

“We’re going out for breakfast,” he snarled, grabbing Sam’s sleeve and towing him from the kitchen. He was obviously enraged, hands fisted at his sides and what Sam could see of the back of his neck and ears was scarlet. Sam hung back a little, giving him some space. Halfway down the block Ichigo slowed and he caught up.

“My father is so…” Ichigo couldn’t even speak. He looked at Sam, scowling furiously.

“Embarrassing? Inappropriate?”

“I can’t believe he would do that in front of you! What an asshole!” Ichigo shoved his hands into his pants pockets. He looked up at Sam, shame all over his face. “I’m really sorry.”

Sam shrugged.

“If you hadn’t told me about it beforehand, I probably would have been more shocked. And probably injured, since I would have tried to intervene. But I agree, it wasn’t very cool of him to jump you in front of me.” Sam said. He sidled closer to Ichigo and bumped his shoulder. “I’m sorry he upset you.”

Ichigo leaned briefly against Sam’s arm. He still looked unhappy, but Sam refused to be drawn into his mood.

“You took me away from my coffee. Plus, you promised me breakfast. How about it?”

Ichigo nodded, staring gloomily at the ground as he walked.

“Hey,” Sam stood in front of Ichigo so he had to stop. He looked up at Sam, expression angry. Sam put his hand on Ichigo’s shoulder, gently stroking the side of his neck with his thumb. Ichigo inhaled sharply, getting pink along his cheekbones, but didn’t move away.

“I’m only here for a few days. I get that you’re pissed at your dad, but can you let it go so we can have a good time together?”

“I just hate that you had to see it,” Ichigo said.

“It doesn’t change anything. Except that maybe we should try to avoid your dad from here on out,” Sam smiled.

“Yeah, okay,” Ichigo smiled faintly in return. “I know a good place for breakfast.” 

Sam squeezed Ichigo’s shoulder and stepped back. They resumed walking side by side. Sam gently hipchecked Ichigo, since he was pretty sure Ichigo wouldn’t want to be kissed in broad daylight where just anyone could see them. Ichigo sustained the contact, though, and squeezed Sam’s wrist briefly before moving away again.

“Please tell me this place has coffee,” Sam said plaintively, trying to make Ichigo smile. He felt a little thrill of smugness shiver down his spine when Ichigo obliged him.

“Absolutely. Follow me.”


	9. Chapter 9

They ended up at an eatery that served something called _okonomiyaki_. It reminded Sam of a Mongolian grill, where you picked out what you wanted, except in this case it was made into an omelette. It was delicious and the coffee was fantastic and plentiful. Sam felt much more awake after three scalding-hot, heavily-sugared, pale-with-cream coffees.

Ichigo took Sam on a walking tour of Karakura Town afterwards. He showed Sam his high school and the park nearby. They walked past Urahara Shoten but didn’t stop, which relieved Sam. He didn’t know if he could take another round of introductions to another large group of people. But Ichigo seemed to want to keep Sam to himself today, and that was fine with Sam. He felt the same way.

Sam’s body tingled all over with proximity to Ichigo, and it drove him crazy that there was nowhere they could go to be alone. It made him so frustrated that at one point during their walk he impulsively herded Ichigo off a path in the park into a stand of trees. He pushed Ichigo up against a tree and kissed him long and slowly, hands braced on the bark on either side of his head.

“Sam, what are you doing?” Ichigo shoved ineffectively at Sam’s shoulders even as he let his head fall back and mouth open under Sam’s. Sam pinned him there with his hips, one leg between his thighs. 

“I just couldn’t wait anymore.”

“Someone might see us!”

“I really don’t care,” Sam said. “Do you?”

“I should care, this is my town,” Ichigo huffed in mingled annoyance and arousal, reflexively clamping his thigh around Sam’s leg, which wasn’t helping the situation any. “If any of my friends see us, I’ll have a hell of a time explaining.” He wound his fingers in Sam’s hair, gasping when Sam bit down on the spot where his neck sloped into his shoulder.

"According to them, you talk about me all the time. You don’t think they’ve figured it out?”

“If they have, I don’t want to know about it,” Ichigo said, voice rough. “I can’t stand much more of this.”

It was a good thing the group that came around the bend of the path in the park announced themselves with exceptional noisiness before they came into view. Sam quickly stepped away from Ichigo, turning his back to the path so he could readjust himself out of sight of whoever was arriving. Ichigo did the same, striving for nonchalance.

Ichigo and Sam continued their walk after the crowd had passed by.

“Can’t stand what?” Sam asked.

“Not being able to go someplace private with you.”

“Haven’t had any bright ideas yet, huh?”

“No,” Ichigo said, expression sour and frustrated.

They continued walking and then Ichigo suddenly stopped at a flower shop and bought a bunch of white, star-shaped flowers. Sam ransacked his memory and identified them as anise. 

Ichigo then went into another store and purchased white candles and a couple of sticks of incense, Sam trailing after him curiously. After that, Ichigo led a bemused Sam to a steep hill that was obviously a cemetery of some sort. Ichigo picked up a wooden bucket from a rack by the gate. 

“Can you hold these for me?” Ichigo held out the flowers and the bag of candles and incense to Sam, who took them willingly. The flowers smelled like black licorice. 

Ichigo filled the bucket of water and walked into the cemetery. 

It was quiet, and a feeling of deep peace enveloped Sam as they walked past a number of shrines, laid out in orderly rows. Some were small and simple, just a headstone with a pillar in front of it, bouquet holders, and tiny lanterns. Others were quite large and elaborate, stone walls enclosing them on all sides with a tall headstone at one end.

Ichigo stopped in front of one these. It was rectangular and surrounded by shiny granite walls about knee-high. The headstone was the tallest part of it, and then there were bouquet holders with another block of stone that had sand in it. Below that was a small stone box. Despite its size, the shrine was very simple, almost modest.

Ichigo stepped into the shrine, put the bucket down and pulled a white cloth out of his pocket. He dipped it in the water and started washing the stone. 

“Ichigo, do you want any help with that?” Sam felt awkward just standing there and watching him work. 

“No, this won’t take long.”

Ichigo washed everything quickly and thoroughly. He replaced the dead flowers from the containers with the fresh ones Sam was holding. The candles were lit and put into the lanterns, and the incense lit and put into the sand between the flower holders. Then Ichigo tipped water into the granite box below it. He knelt in front of it, eyes closed and head bent, saying something quietly. 

Then he stood up, bowed, and walked back over to Sam, who hovered uncertainly outside the boundary of the shrine.

“My mother,” Ichigo said, voice soft and reverent. “I wanted you to meet her.”

Sam put his arm around Ichigo’s shoulder, pulling him close. 

“Thank you, Ichigo. This is really beautiful.” 

They fell silent for a few minutes, Ichigo leaning against Sam, and Sam looking at the smoke drifting up from the burning incense. He thought about the time he and Dean had gone to see their mother’s grave, and how that had led to anything but peace and serenity.

Sam’s brain, which must have been running a "find place to have sex with Ichigo" subroutine, supplied him with a brilliant idea. It was the most inappropriate place to have this kind of idea, given what Sam planned to do with Ichigo if he was willing, but inspiration strikes where it wants. 

It was difficult not to say anything, but Sam waited until Ichigo led them out of the cemetery and back onto the street before he brought it up. By that time, Ichigo had slid out from under Sam’s arm and they were walking side-by-side again.

“Why don’t you show me Tokyo?” Sam said.

“What?” Ichigo stopped and turned slowly, looking up into Sam’s face. He looked confused. “What did you just say?”

“I said, ‘Why don’t you show me Tokyo?’ We could get a hotel room and stay there until it’s time for me to fly back.”

Ichigo stared intently at Sam, eyes narrowing a little, his brows drawing together.

_It’s a terrible idea. Ichigo’s offended, especially since we just left_ his mother’s shrine _and I’m thinking about going someplace where I can fuck him. What the hell is the matter with me?_

“I mean, you’ve been to Tokyo, right? Or at least you know it better than I do and even if you don’t, we could explore it together. Or just, um, stay in a hotel or whatever. What are you smiling at?” Sam babbled, trying to smooth over what he’d said, what he’d implied, with this brilliant plan of his.

“That’s such a great idea,” Ichigo said, and Sam had a moment of breathless relief. “I wish I’d thought of it. In fact, I’m kind of pissed I didn’t.”

Ichigo’s face was very close to Sam’s, very tantalizing. So Sam took advantage of it, but not the way Ichigo seemed to expect. Instead, he leaned forward to whisper in Ichigo’s ear.

“Then we can have the privacy to make all the noise we want.”

Ichigo’s eyes went wide and he blushed, shivered, and swallowed hard. “Let’s go,” he said. He strode off, shouting over his shoulder at Sam. “Come on!” 

Sam grinned, catching up to Ichigo quickly and bumping his arm. Ichigo shoved him back, and they hip-checked and elbowed each other like a couple of kids the entire way back to Kurosaki Clinic.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam used Ichigo’s computer to go online and book the hotel that Ichigo suggested. He didn’t bother cancelling the room he’d booked in Karakura, figuring the reservation had expired anyway. Ichigo ran downstairs to tell Yuzu where they were going.

“Where’s your dad?” Sam asked when Ichigo returned and started packing.

“Not here, that’s all I care about,” Ichigo replied, tossing clothes into a small bag.

“He won’t mind you going off like this?”

“Nah, Chad and I have gone a few times already. I know my way around. Besides,” Ichigo smirked at Sam, “according to _you_ , I’m an adult.”

“Oh, I know _that_ ,” Sam drawled, quashing a pang of jealousy. He knew Chad was just Ichigo’s best friend. He still felt envious that Chad got to spend more time with Ichigo than Sam ever had. “I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

Ichigo flushed and didn’t say anything, not meeting Sam’s gaze as he zipped up his bag. “You ready?”

“Yep,” Sam replied, smiling. He hefted his messenger bag and wheeled carry-on, and followed Ichigo and his tight jeans outside. He enjoyed the view immensely.

Ichigo led them to a bus stop instead of a taxi stand, and they boarded. Sam still felt conspicuously tall and claustrophobic. The train station was no different.

The only real benefit -- or drawback, depending on your point of view -- to being so jam-packed in the train car was that Ichigo was pressed right up against Sam, and he knew it. Although he was shorter than Sam, their legs were about the same length, which meant his ass was against Sam’s front. Ichigo shifted his pelvis subtly, brushing himself against Sam’s fly. Sam’s breath caught and he ground his teeth. Reaching around, he gripped Ichigo’s narrow hips, hands completely wrapping around them, stopping him.

“I can’t be responsible for what I do if you keep provoking me like that, you damn tease,” he murmured in Ichigo’s ear. Ichigo turned his head, sliding his cheek across Sam’s lips, then moved maybe an inch away from Sam, smirking. If Sam had let go of his hips, he might’ve been able to get further away. Possibly two inches. Sam decided he wasn’t really interested in letting him get that far. Through his grip on Ichigo's hipbones, Sam could feel Ichigo's body vibrating. Sam felt it himself, excitement running through him, a recursive electric current.

Sam wondered how much of Tokyo he would actually get to see once he and Ichigo were alone together. More importantly, how far would Ichigo let him go, once the sex stopped being hypothetical? Once it started to hurt. Because it was going to hurt, at least initially. Sam was a gentle person by nature, especially with those he loved, but he’d had enough experience to know that the first time being fucked was _always_ painful, no matter what kind of preparation there was or how slowly they went.

Ichigo led Sam off the train at their stop and Sam was once again awash in the noisy human tide that was Tokyo. It was early afternoon and it was hot, humid, overcast, and loud with people talking, vehicles honking, neon lights flashing, and music playing.

Sam hated crowds. Lots of bad things could happen to a person in a crowd, especially a person who was being pursued by demons. He kept his gaze focused on Ichigo’s orange hair slightly ahead of him and did his best to keep up. Ichigo moved through the crowd easily, used to its patterns, while Sam felt like he was always stepping in front of someone coming towards him.

Sam saw Ichigo glance behind him and register that he was having trouble. Ichigo slowed and leaned up against the wall of a store, smirking. Sam reached Ichigo, panting slightly from the heat, humidity, biomass. Everything. Ichigo’s mocking look didn’t help.

“If you don’t get me someplace relatively cool and quiet soon, I am going to run completely amok,” Sam growled.

“That would be kind of interesting,” Ichigo said, and pushed himself off the wall. He led Sam down a side street and the noise and crowd decreased dramatically.

“I’ve told you about it. You wouldn’t like it in person,” Sam replied. Ichigo gave Sam a one-shouldered noncommittal shrug. They reached an anonymous-looking door and Ichigo pulled it open.

“Chad and I stay here when we come to Tokyo.” Ichigo said over his shoulder as preceded Sam into the hotel. “You booked a room with just one bed, right?”

Sam exhaled as some of the tension left his body, now that he was somewhere cool and quiet. “Hell yes I did. Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?”

Ichigo snorted in acknowledgement and got them checked in. Sam handed over “his” credit card to pay. A bellhop appeared to handle the bags, and punched the number in the elevator before guiding them to their room.

Sam stopped in his tracks and Ichigo bounced off his back with an annoyed grunt. 

“ _That’s_ the bed?”

It was enormous. Sam thought he could lie horizontally across it and still have room to spare, and that was saying something, since he was 6’4”. It must have been at least 7 feet square, with a lacquered latticework headboard. 

“Guess so,” Ichigo said. “At least there’s enough room for the both of us.”

After the bags were deposited on the floor and the bellhop left, Sam sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Ichigo.

“Come here,” he said. Ichigo came over and stood in front of him, a nervous look crossing his face. It was quickly replaced by a scowl as he jammed his hands into his pockets.

“No, come _here_.” Sam reached out and hooked a finger around Ichigo’s belt, pulling him onto his lap, straddling Sam’s thighs. Sam slid his hands up Ichigo’s arms, pulling his fists out of his pants pockets. Resting Ichigo’s forearms on his shoulders, Sam brought Ichigo’s face to his for a kiss. The tip of Sam’s tongue flicked out and across Ichigo’s lips until he gave in and opened his mouth. Sam licked inside, his tongue stroking against Ichigo’s, and curling around it. Ichigo inhaled sharply, a long moan traveling from his mouth into Sam’s. He spread his legs further, sinking down into Sam’s lap, rocking against him. Sam’s hips rose to meet Ichigo, and he slid his hands under Ichigo’s shirt, fingers fitting into the grooves in his ribcage, nails lightly scoring his skin, feeling goosebumps like Braille against his fingertips.

Sam wanted to lay back and pull Ichigo down with him, let whatever happened, happen, but they needed to talk first. He tried to end the kiss, but Ichigo was not interested in stopping, raising his hands and clamping them around Sam’s jaw, holding his head where he wanted it to be.

_He’s like a_ juggernaut. _I feel like he’s trying to climb inside me. Was I like this when I first discovered sex?_ Sam started feeling dizzy, unable to think straight in the storm of stimulation Ichigo was providing. 

_I probably was._

“Ichigo…Ichigo, stop…I have to talk to you. Hey!” Sam pushed Ichigo away from him by his shoulders. When Ichigo tried to knock Sam’s hands off, Sam grabbed his wrists. Ichigo scowled so fiercely at Sam that it looked like his forehead was cramping.

“What the hell,” he growled, “do we need to talk about?”

“What we’re going to do, for starters.”

Ichigo looked confused and angry.

“ _Do?_ What we’re going to _do_? What do you even mean? You know what we’re going to do. What else do we need to talk about?”

“We need to discuss how. And what supplies we need to do it.”

“Supplies?” Ichigo pulled his wrists from Sam’s grasp and slid off his lap to sit next to him.

“I brought condoms, but I’m going to need lube. A lot of lube. It will keep me from hurting you as much. And I don’t know where to get any.”

“You want me to buy _lube_?” Ichigo blushed crimson.

“No, I’ll buy it. You can just take me to a drugstore or wherever and point me to it.”

“Is this absolutely necessary?”

“I can’t get in there,” Sam looked down meaningfully at Ichigo’s pelvic area, “without any of it. And I really, _really_ want to get in there.”

Ichigo stared down at his shoes, flushed cheeks fading to pink, and stood up.

“Okay then, let’s go.”


	11. Chapter 11

Ichigo led Sam into a drugstore. Some things were pretty universal, and even in Japan the merchandise gave it away.

Ichigo orbited the outside aisles before finally making his way down the appropriate row. He then made a couple of quick passes by the shelves of lube and condoms. He glanced at them out of the corners of his eyes, shoulders hunched. Sam saw a dusting of pink along the tops of his ears and his cheekbones.

 Sam trailed after him, incredibly amused at Ichigo’s performance.

“I could probably do this myself, if it bothers you,” he offered, and Ichigo’s head snapped up. He gave Sam a poisonous look that only intensified as Sam grinned at him.

“You don’t even know what you’re looking for,” he grumbled.

“It doesn’t seem like you do, either,” Sam pointed out. Ichigo made a disgusted noise and turned back to the shelves.

Sam picked up a box and examined it. The graphic on the front was of a stack of pancakes being slathered with honey and two cartoon bears blissfully eating them. “Okamoto Condoms,” he said out loud, reading the only English on the box. The cartoon bears were a little off-putting. Ichigo snatched it out of his hand and put it back on the shelf with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

“Not those.”

Sam picked it back up. “Why not?” When Ichigo tried to grab it again, Sam held it up, out of his reach. Ichigo drove an elbow into Sam’s ribs. Sam dropped the box to clutch his side, and Ichigo caught it on its way down to the floor.

“I thought you brought your own,” Ichigo said, putting the box back.

“You are such a punk,” Sam griped, rubbing his side. “And yes, I did bring my own.”

“Well, I don’t want these,” Ichigo replied. 

“Why not?” 

“Seriously? Did you see the box?” 

“It’s cute.”

“Exactly.”

 Sam stepped in close to Ichigo and murmured, “But _you’re_ cute, too.”

 Ichigo turned crimson. “Oh my god, shut up.”

Ichigo moved down the aisle further to a shelf that had more serious-looking boxes on them. Sam browsed behind him until a particular box caught his eye. It had a photo of a horse’s head on it. He couldn’t resist pulling out his phone and taking a picture of it for Dean.

“Hey, Ichigo,” Sam called. Ichigo turned and Sam held the box up, waggling it back and forth. “Think I should get these for myself?” 

Ichigo raked a scathing gaze up and down Sam’s body. “They might be a little bit too big for you.” 

Sam laughed. “Maybe for you?”

“Wouldn’t you be the better judge of that?” Ichigo turned back to the shelves. “Could you _please_ shut up so I can figure out what I need here.”

Sam suddenly realized what Ichigo intended with buying condoms and mentally smacked himself upside the head. He sidled closer.

“Do I get to have some say on the kind you get?”

“What the hell for?”

“Unless you have much more interesting things planned for when I’m gone, I assume you’re going to use them with me. Or _in_ me,” Sam continued, enjoying the look of mounting fury and embarrassment Ichigo wore. “I could probably give you some useful input.”

Ichigo scrubbed his hands through his hair, grimacing. “Just...go stand over there or something, okay? I really can’t do this with you hovering over me.”

Seeing that Ichigo was at the limit of his tolerance, Sam moved down the row to examine the bottles of lube and left him alone. He studiously avoided even the appearance of looking at what Ichigo was doing. He just barely escaped actually sticking his hands in his pockets and whistling.

Sam had never considered the possibility that Ichigo might want to fuck him. His whole mental process had been focused on whether or not Ichigo would be receptive to his advances. He realized that somewhere in his mind he’d had this idea that Ichigo would be pliant, virginal, in awe of Sam’s greater experience.

Virginal, yes, but pliant? As if Ichigo would be pliant about anything. As if Ichigo’s awe, if he had any, would ever hold him back from throwing himself headlong into what he wanted. As if Ichigo wouldn’t be angry and fight his own ignorance with action. 

_Jesus, what an ego I have,_ Sam thought ruefully. Of course Ichigo would want to do to Sam whatever Sam did to him. If Sam had been thinking with his brain instead of his dick, he would have figured that out a long time ago.

Ichigo finally picked a couple of boxes off the shelf and headed for the register, shoulder-checking Sam on his way past. 

“We going?” 

“We’re going.”

The guy at the register gave Sam and Ichigo a knowing leer while ringing them up, but his expression faded at Sam’s thousand-yard don’t-fuck-with-me glare. Ichigo seemed equally annoyed as he snatched the bag from the cashier and turned to go.

“Here, let me carry that,” Sam put the sack in his messenger bag as they left the store. “Is it lunchtime? Because I’m kind of hungry. Let’s get something to eat.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Ichigo looked incredulous.

“Hey, we’re going to need a lot of energy for what I’ve got planned. I need fuel.”

Ichigo muttered “ _Komattahito,_ *” under his breath, then said, grudgingly, “Fine. Noodles.”

Sam grinned at Ichigo’s back. He was so much fun to wind up.

They stopped at the first place Ichigo saw, where Sam got a giant bowl of ramen, along with some bean buns. He ate slowly, savoring his food, which forced Ichigo to do the same, expression grouchy.

“You’re torturing me, aren’t you?” Ichigo finally said.

“Maybe,” Sam said, slurping up some noodles. “I’m giving you time to figure out what you want. And time to get used to the idea of what we’re going to do. Plus, you’re just really fun to tease.”

“Could you be more patronizing?” Ichigo snapped, and stood. “I know exactly what I want. I’ve been thinking about it for at least a year. I’m heading back and I’ll start without you if you can’t keep up.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up as his imagination supplied him with an image of Ichigo getting himself off, feverishly stroking his dick, sweating and moaning Sam’s name in the same way as he had the night before.

There was also the fact that Sam wasn’t entirely sure how to get back to their hotel. He almost knocked over his chair going after Ichigo, and caught up with him after half a block.

“God, you’re a brat.” Sam said, grinning at him. Ichigo smirked. 

They didn’t speak all the way back to their room. Sam started stripping as soon as the door closed, and Ichigo stared at him in disbelief.

“ _Now_ what are you doing?” he demanded. 

“Taking a shower. I feel kind of sweaty and gross.”

Ichigo gaped at him until Sam undid his pants and kicked them off. Then his gaze traveled with unabashed hunger up and down Sam’s body. Sam headed for the bathroom. 

“You coming?” Sam tossed over his shoulder, grinning as he heard Ichigo flinging off his clothes.

**

*"Pain in my ass,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the condoms in this section are an actual thing. You can find them here:
> 
> http://www.ebay.com/itm/san-x-rilakkuma-honey-okamoto-condoms-condom-10-pcs-/181182006933
> 
> and
> 
> http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L8vjBMVzm3s/UHUfg1FaaoI/AAAAAAAAKmw/j8aocZWjpn0/s950/big+boy+L.jpg


	12. Chapter 12

The shower was luxurious. It was large enough for Sam to stand fully under a very satisfying spray of hot water. The glass shower door slid open and Ichigo stepped in. He looked sullen, arms crossed, and gave Sam a cranky look.

“Come here,” Sam said, soaping up the washcloth he held in his hand. He was tall and broad enough that he blocked the shower spray, so he turned sideways to make sure Ichigo got wet. Ichigo didn’t move, letting the water flatten his hair and run down his body, face a study in displeasure. “Seriously, get over here.”

Ichigo stubbornly remained where he was, so Sam pulled him by the wrist towards where he stood. Ichigo held back at first, clearly annoyed with Sam’s delaying tactics, and squirmed in Sam’s grip, taking advantage of the way the water made his skin nearly frictionless. Sam held Ichigo against him with one arm, his back against the tile wall. It was sort of like trying to hug an eel.

Sam tried to kiss Ichigo, but Ichigo took his irritation out on Sam by nipping at his lips with his teeth instead of kissing Sam back. Ichigo bit down along Sam’s jaw. As he swept the soapy washcloth down Ichigo’s lower back and over his ass, Ichigo stiffened and stopped biting. Sam was going to have marks, he knew it. 

“What are you doing?” Ichigo said against his throat. 

“Making sure you’re clean. Don’t worry, I won’t get any soap inside.” Sam swirled the soapy cloth over and around Ichigo’s asscheeks, dipping briefly into the cleft. Ichigo shuddered against Sam.

“Turn around,” Sam said. “I want to get you everywhere.”

Ichigo turned, putting his back against Sam’s chest. Sam’s dick, which had been semi-hard all day in anticipation, slid across Ichigo’s lower back, bumping across his spine. Sam caught his breath. Ichigo glanced over his shoulder, smirked, and _undulated_.

“God, stop it,” Sam groaned.

“ _You_ stop it,” Ichigo countered.

“Not until you are thoroughly clean.”

Sam finished soaping Ichigo up and rinsing him down, trying to keep it brisk and impersonal. It was hard not to outright stare at the body under his hands.

He turned to shut off the water, but Ichigo grabbed his forearm and did some sort of Shinigami kung-fu that ended up with Sam’s face against the tile, his arm twisted up behind his back, and Ichigo’s other hand between Sam’s shoulder blades, holding him against the wall. Sam struggled and got nowhere.

“What are you doing?”

“You need to be clean too,” Ichigo said. “Give me that washcloth.”

Surrendering, Sam tossed the washcloth behind him. He heard Ichigo catch it and swipe it up and down his back.

“If I let your arm go, you are going to stay against that wall,” Ichigo said, tone severe, in an echo of the previous night.

“Yes,” Sam breathed, ridiculously turned on at being manhandled by Ichigo. As big as he was, he didn’t get caught off balance very often, and practically never for fun reasons.

“Good.”

The washcloth slowed, and Sam felt it sweep down, lower and lower. He braced his splayed hands against the wall.

“Spread your legs.”

The washcloth slipped between Sam’s asscheeks, stroking against his anus and his balls. He moaned, pressing his forehead into the wall. The tile felt cool in comparison to the hot throbbing between his legs.

“I think,” Ichigo said, reaching around Sam’s front and lightly stroking his dick with the cloth, “that you like having something other than fingers inside you too. Am I right?”

Sam had absolutely no pride when it came to sex; he liked it too much and didn’t get it enough to be coy about it, so he gasped, “Right.”

“How long since you have?” Ichigo dropped the cloth and clumsily worked Sam’s cock in his slippery fist. The hand in the middle of Sam’s back pressed him remorselessly into the wall. 

“Oh...a while.” Sam’s hips jerked with Ichigo’s movements. “Can’t...remember...oh, fuck that’s good, Ichigo, I’m going to...” and he slid his dick quickly through Ichigo’s encircling hand, groaning. His come splattered against the wall, rinsed away quickly by the still-running shower.

_Well, that happened fast_ , Sam thought vaguely, resting his forehead against the tile. His legs trembled, breath catching at each electric aftershock, as Ichigo stroked him more gently. Then he patted Sam’s softening dick and removed his hand from Sam’s back.

“All clean,” he said, sounding extremely pleased with himself.

Sam turned so that he could rinse off his front, and stared down at Ichigo, unable to keep the amazement off his face.

“Do you think I don’t know what I want?” Ichigo asked, eyebrow raised and sounding very adult all of a sudden. 

He stepped out of the shower, and the blast of cold bathroom air shocked Sam out of his daze. He turned off the water and followed Ichigo, who was drying his hair briskly with a towel, creating a giant shaggy orange mess. Sam dried himself off thoughtfully.

“How much?” Sam finally asked.

“What?” Ichigo peered at himself, trying to get his hair to do something else, pulling it around his face in an uneven orange curtain.

“How much have you thought about it -- us -- this.”

Ichigo looked at Sam in the mirror.

“Whenever I got an email from you. Whenever I didn’t get an email from you. I would dream about you. I would wonder what might happen if I ever saw you again.”

Sam, dumbstruck, gaped at Ichigo.

_It’s so unfair that he could think about me that way while I’ve spent the last year or so clamping down on every single thought and corresponding physical reaction so I didn’t feel like a pederast._

All he could muster for a response, however, was a lame-sounding, “Oh.”

Ichigo turned from the sink to look at Sam, gaze serious. “Anything you have planned for me, I want to do to you. I want to know what you feel like everywhere too.”


	13. Chapter 13

Ichigo left the bathroom and climbed onto the extravagantly large bed. Sam finished drying quickly and followed him, snagging lube and condoms on the way.

“I didn’t have plans; I had hopes,” Sam said.

Ichigo lay on his back, ankles crossed and arms behind his head, a lithe and very attractive picture of insouciance just begging to be dirtied up a little.

“Well, then maybe _I_ had plans,” he retorted.

Sam climbed onto the bottom of the bed, crawling up Ichigo’s body. 

“So, was one of your plans,” Sam said as he kissed his way up Ichigo’s chest, “to get me over to Japan to fuck you for your birthday?”

Ichigo squirmed. “My birthday was a couple of days ago. You’re late.” He arched his back and hissed as Sam lightly scraped his teeth across Ichigo’s nipples.

“Not my fault your timing is off,” Sam’s voice was muffled between Ichigo’s shoulder and neck as he bit down on the tendon there. 

“Oh!” Ichigo exclaimed, jerking a little and blushing at his reaction.

“You like that, don’t you?” Sam said, grinning down at an irritated Ichigo. “I didn’t think you were complaining.” He cradled Ichigo’s face in both hands, kissing him slowly and thoroughly. Ichigo surged up to kiss Sam back, curving his hand around Sam’s jaw and stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. Sam got lost in how it felt, blending with the feel of Ichigo’s tongue curling around his and the sharpness of Ichigo’s teeth in his lower lip. He thought he could spend a few hours just kissing him, but that could wait.

Sam drew back and held Ichigo’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, looking into his eyes. Ichigo returned the look steadily, eyes a burning amber, even if his breath was shallow and quick with anticipation or apprehension.

“You look really hot underneath me like that,” Sam said, sliding his thumb across Ichigo’s lower lip, smiling slightly as Ichigo tried to follow it with his mouth. “And God knows I want to take advantage of it right away. I’m going to try to go slow, but it’s going to hurt.” Ichigo looked as if he were about to refute this, but Sam shook Ichigo’s head once to get his attention back. “ _It is going to hurt._ I mean it. Promise me that if I go too fast or the pain gets to be too much, you’ll tell me. I’ll stop. It’s not a contest. We have lots of time and we can go slow with this.”

“I will,” Ichigo said, and Sam gave him a skeptical look. He knew enough about Ichigo’s personal endurance tests against physical pain and he didn’t want to be one of them. Ichigo scowled up at Sam. “I will! Stop stalling. Let’s do this.”

“If you say ‘come at me, bro’ I’m going to sleep in the bathtub.”

Ichigo glared. “Don’t be an asshole, Sam.”

Sam grinned and stroked his hand down the back of Ichigo’s leg, around his ass, and up his dick. Ichigo moaned, clenching the muscles in the leg Sam had over his shoulder, pulling him closer.

“Tell me again,” Sam said. “Tell me what you want me to do, what you thought about.”

Ichigo’s eyes darted away from Sam’s gaze. There was a lengthy pause. 

“Ichigo..?” Sam encouraged gently, smiling. “You have to tell me or I won’t know, and I won’t be able to do it.”

“You are so embarrassing,” Ichigo grumbled, and took a deep breath. “I want to finish what we started last night.” He flushed red all down his torso, but his stare was unwavering and challenging. Even if he was mortified at what he was saying out loud, his voice was even as he said it. “I want you to put your fingers inside me, and your dick. Fuck me, and make me come. That’s what I want. That’s what I’ve thought about.”

“Now, was that so difficult?” Sam’s smile widened at Ichigo’s growl. “Lucky for you, that’s what I want, too,” he said, and took the bottle of lube, pumping some into his palm. He glided his hand down Ichigo’s cock and balls and behind them to Ichigo’s anus. One finger circled it open and slid easily inside. Ichigo choked on a breath, throwing back his head, biting his lower lip hard.

“Okay? More?”

“Yes, dammit, yes,” Ichigo snapped, grasping the latticed headboard in his hands. “One finger isn’t much. I had that last night.”

Sam snorted, acknowledging Ichigo’s point. He poured more lube into his hand and coated his first two fingers with it. He slid them into Ichigo, still encountering very little resistance, making him slippery inside. 

“Ah, Sam!” Ichigo cried out, loud and unrestrained, digging his heel into Sam’s back. “Sam, _moichido soshite_! _Kudasai_ , Sam!”*

“I like the way you say my name, Ichigo,” Sam said, slowly working lube into Ichigo with two slick fingers, widening them, loosening him up. “Even if I don’t know what else you’re saying, it’s pretty exciting when you say it like that. I want more of it. I like it when you’re loud. Makes me want to just fuck you right now.” Sweat ran down Sam’s back and he could see a sheen of it on Ichigo’s chest.

“ _Yare_!” Ichigo gasped, pushing up so he could slide down Sam’s fingers again.

“What?” Sam smiled down at Ichigo. 

Ichigo scowled at him. “So do it!” 

“Not yet. Not until I have you wet and completely ready. Not until I know you really want it.”

Sam added more lube and slid in a third finger. He spread all three as wide as he could inside and Ichigo’s entire body spasmed. His eyes were glassy and stunned as he stared up at Sam. Sam leaned forward and murmured into Ichigo’s ear, “Ichigo, I wish you could see yourself opened up on my fingers. You’re practically irresistible. So slippery and smooth inside, so damn hot. Can you tell how many fingers I have in you right now?”

Ichigo shook his head, dazed. His mouth hung open and he panted slightly.

“Guess, Ichigo,” Sam said, fingers moving slowly and steadily in and out of Ichigo, who moved with them.

The headboard creaked under Ichigo’s grip.

“I...I don’t know...I can’t tell,” Ichigo stammered. He shook his head angrily. “I...I can’t think...and I don’t care! They’re fingers! I want your dick,” He reached between them and grabbed Sam, not at all gently.

“Ow! You punk!”

Ichigo bared his teeth at Sam, unrepentant.

“Just fuck me, Sam,” he demanded, anger making him coherent. “I know you didn’t come all this way to have me count how many fingers you have up my ass. Which is three, by the way. Are they bigger than your cock? That’s the important question.”

“You are such a fucking brat,” Sam said, amused at Ichigo’s angry assertion over the situation. 

“Don’t expect me to be gentle, now,” he warned as he yanked his fingers out and wiped them on the bedsheet. Ichigo hissed in shock. “You’re being such a smartass that you deserve what you’re going to get.” He sat up, causing Ichigo’s wide-open pose to become even wider. Sam’s breath caught at the sight as he ripped a condom packet open with his teeth and smoothed it over his cock, which was so hard it practically curved and throbbed with his pulse. The cool raincoat feel of the condom was, for once, a relief, and Sam was glad it would block some of the sensation out. He didn’t think it would take very much to set him off, even after having come once in the shower.

“I’d ask you if you were ready, but the way you’re rushing me sort of makes that redundant,” Sam teased. “I’ll go slow, but you have to relax.”

Ichigo shook his head.

“Don’t go slow. I want the hard part over with.”

“I _am_ the hard part,” Sam said, and Ichigo rolled his eyes, scorn replacing the resolve on his face briefly.

Ichigo looked defiantly up at Sam, gaze expectant. Sam suspected that if he hadn’t been bracing himself with the headboard, Ichigo would have his arms crossed.

Sam pumped more lube into his hand and coated his dick with it. Leaning over Ichigo again, Sam positioned the head of his cock where his fingers had just been. “Breathe out,” he said. As he exhaled, Sam pushed the head of his dick into him incrementally.

Ichigo froze. His knuckles were white on the latticework, and his arms shook, the muscles locked in sharp relief, his torso a perfect, frozen line. Sam stopped, his prick immobilized by Ichigo’s clenching.

“Well, you’ve got me inside you. Want my fingers back?”

“You. Are. Not. All the way in,” Ichigo growled between huffing breaths.

“You’re kind of preventing that.”

Ichigo glowered, then took another deep breath. He turned his face away, eyes closed, a grimace contorting his features. He clutched at the lattice of the headboard, clenching his teeth and breathing shallowly through his nose, obviously trying to relax. Sam leaned on his hands over Ichigo to let him adjust, feeling the hot tight grip around his prick ease off slightly.

“Ichigo? Are you ready for me to move?”

“Just go,” Ichigo muttered. “Just go, just go, just go.”

Sam went. It wasn’t easy, he pushed inside a little way and had to stop and let Ichigo adjust, and then do it again, applying more lube. He fought Ichigo for every inch, and fought himself back from coming for every inch achieved. Ichigo was just so fucking _tight_. Even through the mediating influence of the condom, Sam could feel himself driven to his limit. It had been a really long time since he’d been with someone. He needed to have some sort of relationship with someone before he could have sex with them. The kind of life he led wasn’t conducive to that sort of thing happening.

Sam pumped some more lube into his hand. Ichigo cracked an eyelid and looked at him curiously.

“How much of that stuff are you going to use?”

“As much as I need to. I’m going to make a real mess of you, Ichigo.” 

And suddenly, he was balls-deep and unable to go further. He had been working so hard that it was kind of a surprise that he could stop. He drew himself out slowly, relubing so he could get it inside Ichigo as much as possible. Another slow move into Ichigo, and the drag reduced somewhat. Sam kept going until he could slide smoothly in and out.

Sooner than Sam expected, Ichigo’s grimace of sheer endurance changed to one of surprise, wonder, and then pleasure. He started to participate, lifting his other leg to wrap around Sam’s hip, changing the angle, making it sweeter. He moved, of his own accord, with Sam. It was absolutely perfect.

**

*"Sam, do that again! Please, Sam!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey, I'm not a native Japanese speaker (shocking, I know) and I'm doing my very best to make the dialogue authentic. If it's not right or rings false, I'd love any concrit so I can fix it.


	14. Chapter 14

“Ichigo, look at me,” Sam gasped, speeding up. “I want you to watch.”

Ichigo tipped his head down to look at Sam, expression slack. He unlaced his fingers from the latticework in the headboard and braced himself with one palm flat against it, the other hand wrapping around the back of Sam’s neck.

“Is this okay?” Sam breathed.

“Ye-ye-yes,” Ichigo stammered, words forced out of him with Sam’s thrusts. “Whu-what about you?”

“Ichigo, you feel fantastic,” Sam huffed, “You have no idea. You’re strong and sexy and willing. So much braver than I was. I hope...I hope I’m making this good for you.”

Ichigo’s hand on the back of Sam’s neck pulled him down so that he could be kissed. “Braver?”

“I’ll tell you sometime,” Sam replied. He rocked his hips, and Ichigo cried out in surprise.

“Sam? _Nani suru_?*” Ichigo asked, in a rising, helpless-sounding tone. He clung to Sam, hands wrapped around his biceps, and stared up into Sam’s face, seeming confused and a little afraid.

_That’s not exactly the expression of mind-bending pleasure I was going for_ , Sam thought, concerned.

“I can stop,” Sam offered, worried.

Alarm flared in Ichigo’s eyes. “No! Don’t! It just feels weird...”

“Weird good or weird bad?”

“Weird like...weird good. ” Ichigo lost his words as Sam slid into him again. “It feels good. Sam! Keep going, don’t stop!” Suddenly frantic, Ichigo tightened his leg around Sam’s hip. “ _Mecha kimochi i, kudasai, kudasai_ ,**” he said, louder, hips rising to meet Sam.

Sam did as he was told. He moved more quickly, taking his cues from Ichigo’s anxious pulling on his arms, the way his legs flexed and tensed against Sam, the rapid movement of his hips. It felt amazing, sliding in and out of Ichigo, feeling the spasmodic clenching of his inner walls around his dick, but Sam knew he was about to lose whatever tenuous control over himself he had.

“Ichigo,” Sam ground out between gritted teeth, “I’m not going to be able to hold back much longer.”

“ _Suru na!_ ***” Ichigo said, eyes on Sam’s face, watching his expression closely. “ _Ike_. Come.”

“I’m sorry, Ichigo, I can’t stop!” He barely knew what he was doing or saying after that as he tumbled off the cliff of his orgasm. He slammed hard into Ichigo two or three times, distantly hearing his own voice and the abandoned, animalistic sounds he made. His skin dissolved into atoms and his cock emptied in long, wrenching, nearly painful, pulses. Sam heard Ichigo cry out at his force as if from very far away.

Sam’s awareness returned to the sight of Ichigo gripping the headboard for stability with one hand, the other pumping his dick frantically. He shook his head, sweat flying from the ends of his hair, muttering to himself, “ _Chikai, chikai, chikai,_ ****” eyes closed, brows drawn down in exertion. His eyes snapped open and he glared at Sam. “ _Tasukete_!*****”

Sam could guess what Ichigo wanted and did the only thing he could think of. He wrapped his hand around Ichigo’s, trying to move it in time with his frantically bucking hips as Ichigo mumbled and stammered, “Sam. S-Sam. Sam,” and _Jesus_ that was hot.

It didn’t take very much of that before Ichigo froze on a downstroke, eyes wide, and shook. Sam felt it from the inside: Ichigo’s muscles squeezing Sam’s softening dick.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Sam! Sam!” Ichigo shouted as he curled inward and then flung his head back, his voice a ragged howl that rose and fell with the throbbing of his dick as he came. His back arched, his hips thrust, and come streaked up his chest in lengthy spurts.

“Yeah, Ichigo, just like that, you sound great. You look fucking amazing, keep going,” Sam urged, arm wrapped around Ichigo’s shoulders, holding Ichigo’s prick firmly, feeling the way it throbbed and leaped in his hand.

Ichigo scrabbled at Sam’s shoulders, hands slipping on sweat, fingernails digging into the skin and scratching down his back. He stared into Sam’s face, expression utterly amazed. 

Then his eyes and skin began to pale to a chalky white. Sam didn’t stop holding him. He would wait him out, containing him. He was probably a match for the Hollow if he decided to emerge and investigate at this point, and he should have expected it, given how curious and aggressive the Hollow was.

Ichigo shook his head, closing his eyes tightly, hiding that crazily intense gaze, voice strained, “Sam!”

“You’re okay, Ichigo,” Sam said, voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you. I'm not afraid. Come on.”

Ichigo ground his teeth, grunting with effort, but his skin warmed back up to its usual shade, and when he opened his eyes again, they were golden brown. He looked bewildered as he gazed back at Sam. He was still wracked with the occasional shudder as he gasped for breath, his mouth open and his hips moving until he finally slowed to a stop.

Sam devoured Ichigo with his eyes, not wanting to miss anything. 

Ichigo’s limbs splayed out, one leg sliding off Sam’s shoulder and down his arm, the other dropping onto the bed, hands sliding off Sam’s biceps. He had such a look of wonder and satisfaction on his face that Sam felt a painful tenderness swell in his chest. Wordlessly, he pulled Ichigo up against him and kissed him slowly, tasting sweat and that unplaceable flavor that Ichigo had.

Ichigo fell against Sam and into the kiss, boneless and pliant, moaning slightly.

“You are _amazing_ ,” Sam murmured into Ichigo’s ear. “That was _great_.” 

“Yeah,” Ichigo gasped, and rested his forehead on Sam’s shoulder until his breathing evened out. Then he twisted out of Sam’s embrace and lay on the bed on his back, left hand covering his eyes, right hand clenching the sheets in a white-knuckled fist. 

Sam stared down at him.

**

*"Sam? What are you doing?"  
**"I feel really good, please, please,"  
***"Don't do it!"  
****"Close, close, close,"  
*****"Help me!"


	15. Chapter 15

Sam got up to dispose of the condom. He used a washcloth to wipe the Rorschach of come off his chest, then brought it back to the bed. He thought about offering it to Ichigo, but put it on the bedside table instead. He lay back down facing Ichigo, who stared up at the ceiling, expressionless.

“Are you all right?” Sam asked. He didn’t touch Ichigo, and kept a measure of distance between them.

Ichigo rolled onto his side to face Sam. He looked thoughtful. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just trying to wrap my head around what happened.”

Sam went to stroke Ichigo’s shoulder, then dropped his hand, suddenly uncertain of his welcome. “Can I -- can I touch you?” 

Ichigo looked confused. “Of course. You can _always_ touch me. Why?” 

There was a silence as Sam tried to gather his thoughts and articulate his feelings.

“I’m worried that you hated it,” he started. “I’m worried you’re angry with me, that it wasn’t what you expected and definitely wasn’t what you wanted. That you want me to leave. That you can’t even look at me and never want to see me again." Sam was unable to keep the bewildered undertone from his reply.

Realization dawned on Ichigo’s face and turned to dismay. He clapped both hands over his mouth, eyes almost comically wide and horrified.

“ _Ikkene,_ ”* Ichigo’s said, voice muffled behind his hands. “I’m so sorry. It wasn't me. It was -- ” 

“I know. But it was okay? You’re okay?” 

Ichigo lifted his hand and cupped Sam’s cheek in his palm, stroking his thumb across Sam’s cheekbone. Sam tried to put aside his confusion and hurt. After all, he was the experienced adult here.

“Are you kidding me? It was _awesome_.” Ichigo grinned, and Sam smiled back at him, relieved. “And I’m okay too,” Ichigo’s voice was gentler now. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“I know,” Sam repeated. “It wasn’t you.”

Ichigo’s fingers traced lightly down the side of Sam’s neck, across his collarbone, and down his bicep. Sam covered Ichigo’s hand with his own, lacing their fingers together. Ichigo looked at him with an almost unbearable sweetness and understanding. And then he smiled, a clear and open smile. Not a smirk, not a sly look, but a beautiful, centered, certain smile. 

And Sam knew he was utterly, irrevocably lost.

_Sam Winchester, do **not** fall in love with this boy._

But it was too late; it had been too late the minute he’d decided to fly to Japan. He gave Ichigo a small smile in return, the clenching in his chest easing up somewhat. 

“I’m all right, Ichigo,” he said. “Thank you for apologizing, though.”

“I could make it up to you.” 

“Oh, you will,” Sam assured him. “With interest. But not right now. I’m a little tired.” 

“We could see what’s on TV.” 

“Okay. Order some room service, too. I think I burned off those noodles a long time ago.”

“Room service?”

“Room service, TV, and a sexy, naked guy in bed with me? I must have died and gone to heaven.” Sam flopped onto his back, grinning. Ichigo rolled his eyes. He picked up the phone as Sam found the TV remote on one of the bedside tables.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"I fucked up,"


	16. Chapter 16

A long, warm weight settled onto Sam’s back and he reflexively reached under his pillow for a weapon, to find -- nothing. He felt breath across his ear and shivered, remembering where he was. “Ichigo?”

“Were you expecting someone else?” Ichigo murmured, sounding amused. “Because that would be weird. And a little insulting.”

“Well, no,” Sam couldn’t see anything. The room was pitch black. “This bed is huge. What is this fetish you have for laying on me?”

“You’re warm and comfortable and I fit perfectly. Why wouldn’t I lay on you?”

“See previous statement regarding the enormous bed, you sybarite.”

Sam gasped as Ichigo rubbed his nose around the outer curve of his ear, giving him goosebumps.

“Next time you complain about me using Japanese, I’m going to bring that word up, since I don’t know what it means,” Ichigo said in a low voice, mouth moving against Sam’s skin. He pushed Sam’s hair aside to access the nape of his neck and closed his teeth around the topmost vertebra. Sam groaned.

“What I’m doing,” Ichigo said, “is making it up to you.”

“Oh,” Sam said. Then, “What time is it?”

Ichigo’s mouth moved down to the next knob of bone, his lips and teeth making sparks dance across the skin of Sam’s back and heat pool in his groin. His dick slowly lengthened under him and he shifted his hips, making room for it.

“Who cares? Do you have someplace you need to be?”

“Eventually. But not yet.” More constellations bloomed behind Sam’s eyes as Ichigo moved downward. “And nowhere more important than here.” He felt Ichigo’s smile against his skin.

“That’s a good answer,” Ichigo replied.

“When did I fall asleep?”

“I don’t know, sometime after we ate and before now,” Ichigo sounded exasperated, and Sam smiled in the dark.

“Tell me something,” Sam said

“What now?” Ichigo bit down particularly hard on the next vertebra, probably in annoyance at Sam’s queries. Sam gasped. His backbone felt like a row of candles, alight with the sensations Ichigo was leaving behind with his mouth. He couldn’t keep his hips from moving, rubbing his dick in long languid strokes against the sheets.

“What did you mean before by ‘weird’?”

“Hm?”

“You said you felt weird and you felt good. When we were having sex. What did you mean?”

Ichigo stopped his oral exploration of Sam’s spinal column and rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder blade. It was sharp and dug into his skin a little bit, but Sam liked it there.

“It was like...” Ichigo paused. “Well, I know how I feel when I get myself off, and I could kind of imagine what a blowjob would feel like. But to have you here and inside me and above me and around me,” Ichigo stopped again, searching for words. “It was overwhelming. Nothing I’d felt before. I had no frame of reference. It was weird. Too much. Too real. Too big.”

Sam decided to be a gentleman and let that one go.

“I could tell you were out of your depth,” he said. “You almost let your horse throw you.” He remembered the alarming way Ichigo’s eyes and skin had started to bleach out, a sign that his Hollow was trying to take control.

“I know. I was fighting how I felt, because it was bigger than I could understand, and I was scared. I had to stop and conquer the fear. It’s why I withdrew so quickly afterward. I had to lay down the law with my Hollow right away. I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry you were scared,” Sam said softly. “But will it happen every time?”

“I don’t think so. He just thought I was losing my mastery of him and it was an opportunity for him to take over, and I made him understand that having an orgasm was not a loss of control.”

“Well, it kind of is,” Sam said. He felt Ichigo’s laugh hot across his skin.

“Yes, but not one due to fear, or a loss of authority over the Hollow. He doesn’t get to attempt a coup just because I’m coming.” Ichigo started biting his way down Sam’s spine again. “Now, are you done talking? It’s distracting me.”

“I’m finished,” Sam mumbled, Ichigo’s teeth creating multi-armed nebulas of pleasure around his vertebrae.

When Ichigo got to the long scar on Sam’s back, he only kissed it softly, rubbing his cheek against it, knowing the terrible, nearly irrevocable, cost of it.

Sam was taken aback at the tenderness of the gesture. He was given no time to process it, though, because Ichigo was far from done.

Ichigo reached the smaller bones that led into the crack of Sam’s ass and paused. Sam stopped moving, breathless with anticipation, mind one long chant of _ohgodohgodohgod_ as Ichigo’s thumbs, warm and tapered, slipped into either side of the cleft, spreading him open. Sam felt Ichigo’s breath a split-second before Ichigo’s tongue flickered downwards to circle his anus. “Oh, Jesus,” Sam groaned, grinding his forehead into the bedding. He bowed his back, spreading his knees to give Ichigo better access. “Oh, fuck, Ichigo, that feels amazing, don’t stop.”

The tip of Ichigo’s tongue was a fine instrument for coaxing Sam open (not that he required much coaxing) and slipped inside and then quickly out of him. Heat radiated outward from that spot, leaving Sam fevered and immobilized. He grunted and tried to will himself more accessible, give all of himself to Ichigo’s exploration.

“I don’t know what you like,” Ichigo said, mouth against Sam’s skin, the movement of his lips sending arcs of pleasure across his nerve endings. “You have to tell me what you like.”

Sam tried to gather his wits. He was only semi-successful. “More of that,” Sam gasped. “Please, just more of that.” He moved backward slightly, feeling Ichigo’s tongue curl and thrust into him, hotter and wetter and deeper. Ichigo traced the fingers of one hand experimentally down Sam’s cock from behind and Sam moaned, jerking his hips.

Then Ichigo’s mouth was gone, leaving him chilly and bereft. Sam made a protesting sound. Ichigo slipped a hand around Sam’s hip, thumb in the groove, urging him onto his side.

“What are you -- ?” Sam started, then Ichigo slid Sam’s dick into his mouth. “OH.” Ichigo snickered, and Sam shuddered as the vibration spread throughout his body. Sam bent his knee and wrapped his fingers in the headboard to balance himself as Ichigo’s mouth did wonderful things to him. He kind of liked the sloppiness of Ichigo’s blow jobs, his enthusiasm more than made up for his lack of expertise. Plus the sounds he made in his zeal were incredibly lewd -- not just pornographic sucking and slurping noises, but needy whines that Sam knew would mortify Ichigo if he ever realized he made them. 

Sam rocked himself back and forth, trying to get more of his dick into Ichigo’s mouth, breathing fast. Then Ichigo slid a finger into his mouth alongside Sam’s dick. The difference in the texture and friction of Ichigo’s mouth and finger rubbing against his dick nearly broke him. Sam clenched his teeth, tossing his head back. “Right there, yes, oh God, Ichigo!”

Ichigo took his finger out of his mouth and moved it back, behind Sam’s balls, across his perineum, and used it to circle Sam’s anus. Sam growled in mingled frustration and pleasure. “Fuck, Ichigo, don’t be a tease, put it in.”

Ichigo’s finger made maddening spirals around Sam’s opening, neither progressing nor retreating. Sam rocked harder back and forth, but Ichigo held his cock by its base, preventing him from going deeper.

“Ichigo, come on, do it,” Sam directed, his awareness a pinpoint focus on the movement of Ichigo’s single digit. “Please, Ichigo, come on, I want it, please,” he breathed, unashamed at his pleading.

At last Ichigo slipped a long finger inside Sam and the nebulas behind his eyes _exploded_. “Jesus fuck!” Sam shouted. His back bowed and he came, vaguely aware of Ichigo gripping his dick to keep Sam’s rapid plunges from choking him.

Sam heard a crack as the headboard's latticework came apart in his hands, the chunks of wood driving into his palms. This somehow kicked his orgasm into high gear and he lost all sense of anything as it rampaged through him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No actual latticework headboards were harmed in the creation of this chapter. Any resemblance to headboard destruction in other texts is purely coincidental.


	17. Chapter 17

“I wasn’t done,” Ichigo sounded petulant when Sam returned to himself, disoriented from his orgasm and the total darkness.

“It’s really embarrassing how quickly you can make me come,” Sam panted. His hands stung and burned.

“Are you okay?” Ichigo pulled his hand out from under Sam, rough and too quick. 

“Ow, _Jesus_ , Ichigo,” Sam said, with feeling. “I broke the headboard.” His palms were now throbbing. 

“Hang on a second,” Ichigo said, and then Sam’s pupils contracted painfully in the sudden light from the bedside lamp. He squinted, and felt Ichigo take his wrists.

“Kuso*,” Ichigo said, voice hollow with shock, “Sam, your _hands_.”

Sam blinked and was finally able to see. He looked down and saw several large pieces of wood puncturing his palms, along with a variety of different-sized splinters jammed under the skin of his fingers. A few drops of blood welled up around the edges of the slivers. He managed to sit up with Ichigo holding his elbow. 

“Let me get the first aid kit from my bag." Ichigo got off the bed and went into the bathroom. Sam ruefully pulled the larger pieces of wood out of his skin and dropped them into the trash can next to the bed. When he put his hands into his lap and looked down, he saw some darkish stains on the sheets where Ichigo had been laying earlier. 

_Is that blood?_ Sam thought, dismayed. _Did I hurt Ichigo? Why didn’t he tell me?_

“I made you bleed,” Sam said, horrified at himself. Ichigo came back with a washcloth and his first aid kit. 

“Huh?” Ichigo looked up. 

He sat next to Sam on the bed and took one of his hands. Very delicately, he started pulling slivers of wood out of the skin.

“There’s blood on the sheets. I made you bleed. Why didn’t you tell me I hurt you?” Sam asked.

“Because you didn’t hurt me. Or if you did, I didn’t notice or maybe liked it. I don’t know,” Ichigo looked back down and continued to work on Sam’s hand. “It felt too good. I didn’t want you to _stop_.” 

“Are you in pain now?”

“ _No_ ,” Ichigo said firmly. “And I wasn’t in pain before. Did it ever occur to you that you’re just _big_ and I’m just new at this?”

Sam was silent. He _was_ a big guy. He didn’t recall bleeding his first time. But Ichigo was lithe and wiry and slim in contrast to his own build.

“Besides, I made you bleed now, too, so maybe we’re even.” 

Ichigo finished with one hand, wiping it with the washcloth, then antiseptic, and then bandaging it. He started on Sam’s other hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam finally said. 

“What for?”

“I feel like I’m screwing things up and I want to make this a good experience for you. Not memorable for all the wrong reasons.”

“Sam, I just made you come so hard you broke the headboard. Aside from some splinters, where is the bad in that?”

“I think you weakened it up a bit for me first.” 

“It’s a really good headboard for grabbing onto.” 

“Well, it _was_ ,” Sam said. Ichigo looked up at Sam again, and smiled. 

“Anyway, a little blood on the sheets, some splinters, we've seen worse, right?” 

Sam looked down at himself, and saw the variety of scars on his body, saw himself as Ichigo might. He had healed bullet holes, irregular gashes that had been field-treated with Dean’s hasty stitching, shiny healed burns, and other kinds of marks doled out by the multitude of creatures he’d come into contact with over his lifetime. Ichigo’s thin, healed swordcuts made him look like he was wrapped in silver wire. The only exceptions were a large healed gash on his shoulder, and another in the center of his chest.

“Yeah, I guess,” he replied. 

“I wish I knew all the stories behind them.” Ichigo bandaged up Sam’s other hand. “There. You’re done.”

“I’ve told you some,“ Sam said. “Could you turn off the light again?”

“Why?”

“Because I like the way you feel in the dark,” Sam said. 

**

*Shit


	18. Chapter 18

Ichigo, cheekbones stained pink, leaned over and turned off the bedside lamp. Sam lay down, on his back this time, until he felt Ichigo settle next to him. Then he rolled onto his side, found Ichigo’s face in the dark by running a hand up his chest, and kissed him with deliberation and great thoroughness. His tongue moved against Ichigo's in long slow strokes. Ichigo’s response was immediate. He gasped and moaned, writhing under Sam, his kisses fast and desperate. 

Sam slid his knee in between Ichigo’s legs and held his face in his hands, bandages slightly rasping on his skin. Ichigo curved up under Sam, running his hands down Sam’s back. The areas where he’d bitten and scratched Sam earlier felt like they lit up under Ichigo's touch. Ichigo’s hips rolled against Sam, and he wrapped his legs around the back of Sam’s thighs. 

“I like how you sounded before, when we were fucking,” Sam murmured, rubbing his nose along Ichigo’s jaw and up to his ear. “How you couldn’t even remember how to speak English. That was really sexy. I want to do that to you again.” Ichigo sucked in a breath as Sam’s teeth gently closed on his earlobe. Sam moved his mouth down to the curve of Ichigo’s neck and rested his head there, breathing into the hollow of Ichigo’s collarbone. “I like the way you roll your ‘r’s. And ‘l’s.”

“I don’t roll my ‘r’s _or_ my ‘l’s’, Sam,” Ichigo said with some asperity.

“You do. It’s really subtle, but it’s there. I like thinking about what your tongue is doing in your mouth when you roll them.”

“ _Ecchi_ ,”* Ichigo grumbled. Sam laughed quietly and started moving downward. Ichigo’s legs fell onto the bed as he did.

“I like that I could make it good for you.” Sam spoke against Ichigo’s skin. “I like that you know what you want. I like that you chose me to give it to you.”

Ichigo moved against Sam, not speaking, winding his fingers in Sam’s hair. “I like that you can make me beg.” Sam nipped at the edges of Ichigo’s ribs, eliciting a series of choked off gasps. “I like that you seem to want me as much as I want you.” 

“Sam,” Ichigo whined, drawing out the vowel. 

“Hush,” Sam replied, biting down on Ichigo’s hipbone. “I like how everything is new to you. I like getting to show you.” He nibbled the inside of Ichigo’s thigh, and Ichigo jumped. “I like how you smell.” He turned Ichigo’s leg slightly and flickered his tongue across the back of his knee. “It took me a while to figure it out, but you taste, you smell like a finely honed blade, or one of my knives when I’m done sharpening it. You smell like hot oiled steel.” Sam bit down Ichigo’s calf lightly, feeling goosebumps against his lips, the sparse hair tickling his skin. His tongue circled Ichigo’s ankle bone and down his instep. Ichigo’s hands slipped out of Sam’s hair as he slid further down the bed. Sam picked up Ichigo’s foot and ran his tongue along the bottom of it. Ichigo laughed breathlessly. Sam scraped his teeth lightly on the delicate skin, and heard Ichigo’s sharp inhale.

“I think you have unreasonably attractive feet,” Sam said, and drew one of Ichigo’s toes into his mouth. He traced it with the tip of his tongue, circling the top and between it and its neighbor. He felt Ichigo moving restlessly on the bed as he did this, and did it again with each of his toes. 

“ _Ashi-fetchi_ ,”** Ichigo gasped, and Sam grinned. 

Sam did the same with Ichigo’s other foot, and ankle bone, and calf, and thigh, and hip. He did like symmetry. “You’re so damn responsive I just want to put my mouth and hands everywhere on you to see what you’ll do.”

“ _E, kudasai, e_ ,”*** Ichigo breathed, moving against the sheets, against Sam, spread out beneath him on the bed. 

“I like,” Sam said against Ichigo’s lower belly, “how you taste.” He took Ichigo’s dick into his mouth, holding Ichigo’s hips as he took his time with moving down the length of it. He felt Ichigo try to thrust himself into Sam’s mouth only to realize he was pinned to the bed. 

“Sam,” Ichigo whispered. 

Sam continued at the same slow pace. Ichigo’s stomach muscles quivered and he dug his heels into the bedspread, pressing hard against Sam’s pinioning hands. 

“Sam.” Ichigo’s fingers scrabbled through Sam’s hair, nails scraping his scalp. “ _Kudasai. Hayaku._ Faster.”**** 

Sam shook his head carefully, never changing his pace. 

“Come on, Sam,” Ichigo pleaded, straining. Again Sam shook his head no. He wanted to keep Ichigo on the edge for as long as possible. Ichigo twisted, putting his knee on Sam’s shoulder, trying to push him off.

“Stop that,” Sam said, releasing Ichigo’s cock quickly so he didn’t inadvertently catch it on his teeth. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He shoved at Ichigo’s leg with his elbow. When it fell back onto the bed, Sam planted his forearms on the outside of Ichigo’s thighs, effectively trapping him, and got back to work.

Sam knew when Ichigo’s frustration became the slow rolling waves of pleasure he was trying to evoke by the way Ichigo’s legs dropped onto the bed, how his hands only rested on Sam’s head, by the shocked “oh” that Ichigo uttered. 

Sam kept Ichigo there for a while, giving him a depth of sensation that was very different from their previous, frantic encounters. Ichigo breathed, his exhalations quiet moans. Sam felt the languid surge of Ichigo’s body as he moved with Sam’s mouth. It was an exquisitely slow build. 

In the darkness of the room there was no telling how much time passed. The only sounds were rustling sheets, Ichigo’s huffs of breath and moans, the wet sounds of Sam’s mouth on Ichigo’s cock, and the roaring of blood in Sam’s ears. He sped up incrementally, adding some subtle suction to the process, propelling Ichigo to the edge.

Ichigo was surprised when he came. Sam wasn’t. 

Sam felt it start in Ichigo’s skin, how it rippled with goosebumps and in how his balls drew up hard until they were like stones. He heard it in the way Ichigo’s breath hitched in the middle of an inhalation. He went rigid and said “ah!” in shock. He took deep fast breaths, like someone rescued from drowning, and cried out, “Sam, _yamero_! Sam! _Yamero, ikiso-da_! _Kudasai_ , Sam, _kudasai_!”***** 

Sam felt Ichigo thrash against the sheets as he came, clenching Sam’s hair in his fists and nearly screaming in frustrated pleasure. Ichigo's heels dug into the mattress as he tried to sit up. His abbreviated motions were arrested by his immobilized hips, and he fought it.

Hot, bitter fluid filled Sam’s mouth, and he swallowed repeatedly, not releasing Ichigo until his hips left off moving and he softened, limbs splayed on the bed, fingers unwinding from Sam’s hair.

Sam wiped his mouth on the sheet. He kissed his way up Ichigo’s chest, saying, “Amazing, amazing, you’re so fucking amazing,” over and over until he could lay down next to him on his back. He felt Ichigo search around until he found Sam’s arm and gripped his wrist hard. Sam felt Ichigo trembling and was surprised when Ichigo rolled over and buried his face in Sam’s shoulder. Sam put his arms around Ichigo, holding him tight. 

“Hey,” Sam’s voice was soft. “Are you okay?” Ichigo nodded, then shook his head. 

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” Ichigo said into the side of Sam’s neck, his voice shaking and his entire body quivering.

Sam rolled onto his side, pulling Ichigo closer to him. He was a little surprised at the way Ichigo curled into him, against his chest, and clung to him, hands gripping Sam's upper arms. Was this the kid with the fierce grin who had so fearlessly fought the Hollow the night before?

Sam knew from their emails that it was rare for Ichigo to let himself be vulnerable in front of anyone. And now he was letting Sam see him this way. Or feel him, since the room was pitch dark. Maybe that’s why Ichigo was able to be like that with Sam. 

Sam stroked his fingertips down Ichigo’s back, trying to soothe him.

“It doesn’t always have to be crazy energetic headboard-destroying sex,” Sam said. He reached down with one hand and pulled the comforter over them. “Sometimes slow and methodical can feel pretty good.”

Ichigo nodded again. 

“What do you want me to do?” asked Sam.

“Just -- what you’re doing right now,” Ichigo said, seeming calmer, voice firmer. “Just keep doing that.”

“For as long as you want.” Sam continued to run his fingertips (the only part of his hands without bandages) up and down Ichigo’s back. He kissed the top of Ichigo’s head, leaving his mouth resting on Ichigo’s hair, breathing the scent of all their exertions into his lungs. “Everything’s okay. You’re fine.”

Ichigo didn’t even have a snappish retort, which showed Sam how shaken he was. 

Ichigo’s shivers eventually tapered off and then stopped completely. His breathing slowed and evened out, and Sam realized that he’d fallen asleep. Sam kept his arms around Ichigo and stared into the dark, his wounded hands throbbing in time with his heart.

**

*Pervert.  
** Foot-fetishist.  
***Yes, please, yes  
****Please. Faster.  
*****Sam, stop! Sam! Stop, I’m coming! Please, Sam, please!


	19. Chapter 19

Sam woke up. Light seeped in around the edges of the curtains and he heard an incredibly tinny sound that resolved itself into the opening chords of “Eye of the Tiger.” He fumbled around on the bedside table and grabbed his phone.

“Dean,” Sam said, sitting up, sheet puddling into his lap. “Everything okay?”

“Thanks for the cockhorse picture. Is that going to be my souvenir?” Dean’s voice sounded rough, the way it did when he was stressed and short on sleep. 

“Yes, Dean, I’m bringing you a box of condoms all the way from Japan.” 

“When _are_ you coming back?” 

“Uh, I don’t know,” Sam rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand. “What day is it?”

“Are you serious? What day is it? Really? I don’t even want to know what you’ve been doing that you don’t know what day it is. It’s Monday.”

“I’ve been doing exactly what you think I’ve been doing. But I can give you some details.” 

Sam snickered at Dean’s hasty, “Jesus, no.”

“I’ll be back Wednesday,” Sam said. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing urgent, but knowing when you’ll be back helps. I got something I don’t want to tackle on my own.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not going to tell you right now. It’ll spoil your visit if you’re thinking about it. I’ve got Bobby on it, don’t sweat it,” Dean said.

“That’s really considerate of you, Dean. Now I’ll be thinking about it either way,” Sam said sarcastically. “You might as well tell me. Otherwise I’ll think you called me because you missed me.”

“As if,” Dean snorted. “Anyway, there's this haunted salt water swimming pool at a country club in Miami. It’s either selkies, rusalka, or undines. Or sirens. And I’m not getting anywhere near it until I know for sure, which is why I have Bobby on it until you get back.”

“Maybe Jenny Greenteeth?” Sam suggested, feeling Ichigo stir on the bed behind him. 

“Then I would _definitely_ need you so I could stake your ass out as bait and hit her with a cast iron skillet when she came to get you.” 

“I think that’s been done,” Sam said, and then twitched as he felt Ichigo’s fingertips stroke down his back. He looked over his shoulder, smiling, and saw that Ichigo’s eyes were still closed, arm outstretched on the bed. “Did you call Dresden? He’s tight with the fae.” 

“I’ll have Bobby call Dresden, since he doesn’t exactly like me.” Dean sounded a little less rough now that he was talking it through with Sam. “Oh, hey. I see what you’re doing there. You’re on vacation. Stop working.”

“I’m just trying to avoid being trussed up as bait for Jenny Greenteeth when I get back,” Sam snickerned. “Now you have some leads and you’ll have something more concrete when I get back.”

“Well, thanks, Sammy, it’s nice to know you can still use the big head. Have you even _been_ outside?”

“ _Goodbye_ , Dean.”

“Who’s making you bait?” Ichigo said, voice husky with sleep. 

“Nobody, just my brother’s idea of humor.” Sam lay back down on the bed and Ichigo immediately scooted over, putting his head on Sam’s shoulder, arm across his chest, and leg over Sam’s thigh. He made a low sound of contentment as he settled in. Sam felt a curious and unfamiliar sense of contentment suffuse as he put his arm back around Ichigo. He was just happy. When was the last time he had felt simple, unalloyed happiness? 

He was just going to lie there with Ichigo and enjoy the moment and not overthink it. _Right now is perfect,_ Sam thought. He dropped a kiss on the top of Ichigo’s head. “How are you feeling?” 

“Fine. Comfortable. Hungry,” Ichigo said. “What were you talking about?”

“Just some stuff for when I get back to reality,” Sam said. 

“I hate reality,” Ichigo mumbled, sounding like he was drifting back to sleep. “Don’t ever go back.” 

Sam’s heart jolted. Did Ichigo even know what he was saying?

“I have to get back to work eventually,” Sam said.

“ _Dare mo boku no Sam esa o okonaimasen,_ " Ichigo said, his voice fading even more. 

I guess we’re still sleeping, Sam thought, and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Nobody makes my Sam bait,"


	20. Chapter 20

The next time Sam woke up, it was because his stomach and bladder were both roaring at him. He rolled over to see that he was alone in the bed. He didn’t hear any movement in the bathroom, either.

 

He had a vague memory of Ichigo getting up, and saying, “I’ll be right back, don’t wake up.” And the sound of the hotel door closing.

 

“Ichigo?” Sam got out of bed. The bathroom showed signs of use, the air humid, wet towels heaped on the floor. Sam used the toilet and went back into the bedroom. His phone beeped at him, and he picked it up.

 

: Getting food. DON’T PANIC. : the text from Ichigo read. Sam grinned and went back into the bathroom to take a shower, unwinding the bandages from around his hands. 

 

Bits of him all over stung under the water, especially his back and his hands, which were blotchy with scabs.  Sam wondered what sort of marks he’d left on Ichigo. 

 

He was just pulling on his jeans, towel around his neck, when Ichigo came through the door with an enormous bag. Its contents filled the room with enticing smells.

 

“Oh, Ichigo, thank god,” Sam said fervently. “I’m starving. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

 

“You were sleeping like a dead thing and I didn’t have the heart to,” Ichigo replied. “You looked too comfortable.”

 

Sam walked over to Ichigo, into his space, and put his hands on Ichigo’s face, tipping it up. “You could’ve at least kissed me goodbye,” he said softly.

 

Ichigo dropped the bag and put his hands over Sam’s, smiling up at him. “I was coming right back,  _ baka _ .”

 

“Then I’ll take one now,” Sam leaned down and kissed Ichigo with gentle affection, then let him go so that he could set out the food.

 

“What did you get?” Sam asked, hovering behind Ichigo.

 

“Just some yakisoba.”

 

“And coffee?”

 

Ichigo silently held up a giant Starbucks cup. 

 

“It’s like you know me,” Sam said gratefully, taking the cup and sitting at the table. Ichigo handed him some chopsticks and sat across from him, and they started eating. “I realized that I should probably get Dean and Bobby some souvenirs while I’m here, so I guess we need to go out for a while.” 

 

“Okay,” said Ichigo. “Can you tell me something? About one of the things you said last night?”

 

Sam swallowed his food. “Can you narrow it down for me a little? I said a lot of things last night.”

 

“You sure did,” Ichigo snorted. 

 

“Hey, shut up, you were the one babbling incoherently.” Sam pointed his chopsticks at Ichigo.

 

“I was  _ not _ incoherent, and I was  _ not  _ babbling. I was speaking perfectly good Japanese.”

 

“Which I didn’t understand a word of, but I’m going with ‘Sam, you sex god, please fuck me into the mattress with your magnificent cock all night long.’”

 

Ichigo jerked upright in his seat, outrage on his crimson face. “Like hell! Don’t say such embarrassing things!” 

 

“Well, that’s disappointing. Was it more like ‘go faster,' ‘don’t stop,’ and ‘I’m coming’?” Sam tried not to laugh at Ichigo’s discomfort and the sour expression he wore. 

 

“Oh, shut up. I want to know what you meant about me being braver than you were.”

 

“You want a story? Tell you what -- I’ll tell you mine if you tell me one of yours.”

 

“About what? You know pretty much all there is.”

 

“I haven’t decided. Do you agree or not?”

 

Ichigo considered the terms Sam was offering, but clearly he wanted to know about Sam’s lack of sexual bravery more than he was worried about what Sam might want in return.

 

“Okay, deal,” Ichigo said, slurping up some noodles. He gave Sam an expectant look.

 

“All right, well, contrary to my brother the manslut’s opinion, I did manage to date when I was in high school. I was just really discreet about it, especially when it came to the guys. But when I went to college and finally had the freedom and privacy to do what I wanted, I went a little wild. There wasn’t very much I would say no to.” Sam ate some noodles and had a big slug of coffee.

 

“During my sophomore year, I got involved with a grad student who was a TA in one of my classes. He was older and more experienced than I was, and I really wanted him to be the first guy I had sex with.”

 

Ichigo had stopped eating altogether and stared at Sam as he told his story. 

 

“Had you already had sex with a girl?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, I lost my virginity that way when I was about 17,” Sam replied, then continued. “So we tried for like a solid week, but I chickened out every time. I would tell my boyfriend I wasn’t ready. And he was really patient with me -- until the weekend.”

 

Sam paused again to eat and drink, taking his time, and Ichigo finally asked, “Well, what happened?”

 

Sam grinned. “We went to bed and I backed off at the last minute, like I had all week. We did other things and then I fell asleep. When I woke up my boyfriend was sitting next to me on the bed with something I couldn't see in his hand. He told me that he was tired of me being so indecisive and I clearly needed someone to make the decision for me. He asked me if I needed him to tie me up to do it, because he was willing to do it if that's what it took."

 

Ichigo’s eyes went wide, eyebrows raised in shock.

 

“What did you do?”

 

“I let him. But it wasn't like he went right to it. He didn't tie me up until I begged him to, just so he could fuck me and I wouldn't be able to chicken out. After he tied me to the bed I was practically out of my mind wanting him inside me. Later on, after he untied me, he showed me how to fuck him. We didn’t really get out of bed that whole weekend and I’m glad he didn’t have any roommates. They would have killed us both with all the noise we made.”

 

“He tied you up.”

 

Sam nodded.

 

“And you liked it?”

 

Sam nodded again. Swallowing more food, he said, “I trusted him, so it wasn’t like it was dangerous. Besides, later on I got to tie him up, and that was  _ really  _ fun.”

 

“Why were you so scared?” 

 

“Probably for the same reasons you were -- the unknown, whether it would hurt, all that.”

 

“Did it hurt?”

 

“Yeah, it did at first. He was super slow, used  _ gallons _ of lube, and it was still painful. But not for very long. We had been doing other stuff to, uh, stretch me out before that.”

 

“So what happened to you guys?”

 

“Oh, he graduated and got a job and had to move, so we broke it off. And I met Jessica not too long after that, so...” Sam looked down, fiddling with his chopsticks. He didn’t want to talk about Jess. Not beyond what he’d already told Ichigo in his emails. He looked back up at Ichigo, quirking a slightly sad smile.

 

“So, is your curiosity satisfied?”

 

Ichigo nodded. “I still don’t understand how that makes me brave, or braver than you.”

 

“Well, you had even less of an idea of what to expect than I did, right? You’d never done anything with anyone. And you still went ahead with it.”

 

“I probably thought about it more, though. With you, anyway. I wasn’t going to waste the chance,” Ichigo replied.

 

“What would you have done if it looked like I wasn’t going to make a move on you?”

 

“Probably tried to seduce you.” 

 

“Although that sounds really cute, I’m glad that wasn’t necessary.” 

 

“Me too,” Ichigo said. “I wouldn’t have been very subtle and I would have been really humiliated if it didn’t work.”

 

Sam thought about the previous two nights and Ichigo's combination of nervous inexperience and heedless determination and wondered what his own response might have been to such tactics. He had sort of forced Ichigo to make the first move, anyway, only indicating his own interest and leaving the door open for Ichigo to either walk through or shut.

 

"And I am  _ not _ cute," Ichigo continued, scowling.

 

“Oh, but you are,” Sam smirked. “Obviously, you didn’t have to work that hard.” 

 

“Obviously,” Ichigo echoed, still frowning.

 

They ate in silence for a while.

 

“I think that I should at least take you to Harajuku before you leave,” Ichigo said. “You can get your souvenirs there. Did you have anything in mind?”

 

“For Dean, yes, but not for Bobby. I think for him I’ll just know it when I see it.”

 

“Well, get yourself ready, because I know you hate crowds. Harajuku is all about crowds.”

 

Sam sighed theatrically. “At least I’ll have something fun to look forward to afterwards.”

 

“Oh, really? What’s that?” Ichigo asked innocently.

 

Sam slid his bare foot up the inseam of Ichigo’s pants to his thigh, and Ichigo flailed in surprise, sending his chopsticks flying. Sam smirked at Ichigo’s glare as his cheeks and ears turned a brilliant shade of red.

 

“Are you done eating?” Ichigo asked shortly. Sam smiled as he nodded. “Then let’s go,” Ichigo shoved his chair back and stood. He headed for the door, still not looking at Sam. 

 

Sam hurried to get his shoes on and catch up, grinning to himself.


End file.
